Punishment
by Cajun Quinn
Summary: Very AU story based on old RPGs not the comics. Starring the Guilds (and Remy). Guest-starring several X-Men. Setting is mostly Westchester. *COMPLETE!* Please R/R!
1. Chapter One

Punishment

(NOTE: Based on old RPGs I used to do with PJ. Very AU. Hey, it's based on an RPG, what do you expect, huh? Starring the Guilds, including Remy, guest-starring Professor Xavier, Hank and Jean, with appearances by Logan, Scott and Bobby. Don't own 'em, wish I did. Not making money, wish I was. Ah well. Enjoy. That's what it's for!) 

Chapter One 

_"Oh mon dieu..."_ Emil Lapin slowly regained consciousness. He had no idea how long he'd been sprawled on the floor of his bedroom. Looking around he thanked God he was alone. Every inch of his body ached like nothing he'd ever felt before. Gris-Gris never did anything half-way, especially beating up Emil. Emil sighed and winced in pain. He realized his chest hurt more than anything else. He was having a hard time breathing. It felt like his lungs were constricted and were refusing to operate correctly. All Emil knew was, it hurt. And he needed help. 

He heart footsteps in the hall outside his room and prayed it wasn't Gris-Gris coming back to finish the job. Then he heard the familiar sound of his good friend Genard Alouette clearing his throat and nearly cried he was so relieved. But how to get the other thief's attention? 

"Genard..." Emil gasped out, not managing much more than a whisper. The effort drained him and he nearly passed out. He hoped Genard had heard him, because he couldn't do it again. He didn't have the strength. 

In the hallway, blond haired Genard paused. He shoved his glasses up on his nose and frowned, his brown eyes confused. He could have sworn he heard something, but no one else was in the upstairs hall. Was it coming from Emil's room? Curiosity gettign the better of him, Genard turned and gently pushed the half-open door open, allowing the light from the hall to flood into the room. His eyes widened in horror at what he saw when he looked inside. 

"Emil!" He gasped. He moved to the younger man's side, concern radiating from him. Emil's body was covered in dark bruises and cuts that were still fresh enough to bleed if moved. Emil's eyes were closed, and his pulse was weak, Genard noted. "Emil, can you hear me?" 

Emil opened his eyes. "Oui...can'...breathe...hurts..." He managed to whisper, wincing with every word and breath he tried to take. 

"My God...you must have a collapsed lung...who did dis? Gris?" Genard asked, trying to figure out how he was going to move Emil. 

"Oui..." Emil said and then passed out, a helpless ragdoll in Genard's arms. 

Genard knew they had to get Emil to a doctor, preferrable Dr. McCoy up in Westchester, as soon as possible. But he didn't want to leave the other man's side. Not for a second. He tried to lift Emil twice, but failed. He wasn't strong enough. He nearly sobbed after his second failed attempt. _"I wish Theo an' Claude were here..."_ He thought. But his friends were in the kitchen of the safehouse, which wasn't exactly within yelling distance of Emil's bedroom. Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the doorway, blocking part of the light into the room. 

Genard looked up. "Oh t'ank God..." 

Zoe Ishihara, the only member of the Unified Guild of Thieves and Assassins who wasn't from New Orleans, stared into the room in shock. "Genard...what happened?" 

"From what he told me 'fore he passed out 'gain, Gris beat him up. Zoe I need you to go get Theo an' Claude...I can' move him on my own. Den, either you or Mercy need to call Remy in Westchester an' tell him to make sure Dr. McCoy's gon' be ready for an emergency..." 

Zoe nodded and left. She raced down the stairs so fast she nearly tripped on them and flew down the hall into the kitchen at the back of the safehouse as fast as her feet would carry her. She stopped when she got there, out of breath, and looked at the other thieves. 

Theoren Marceaux, Mercy LeBeau and Claude Potier were all quite a bit older than Genard, Emil and Zoe, but none of them looked it, thanks to the Elixir of Longevity. They were sitting at the table, chatting over coffee when Zoe ran in. 

"Zoe, what's wrong?" Theoren demanded, alarm in his voice. Zoe never rushed for anything. Ever. 

The young Japanese woman took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself and then answered Theoren's question. "Gris beat Emil up. Genard found him. They're in Emil's room. Emil's hurt real bad. Genard needs you an' Claude to go help him get Emil off the floor...." 

Without waiting to see what else Zoe had to say, Theoren and Claude bolted out of the kitchen and raced up the stairs to the second floor. Once in Emil's room, Theoren looked at Genard. 

"Any idea how bad he is?" 

Genard sighed. "Tol' me he couldn' breathe b'cause it hurts. I'm guessin' collapsed lung. Don' know what other internal injuries dere is, but you can see de bruises an' cuts." 

"Okay, well let's get him downstairs. We have to get him to Dr. McCoy." Theoren stated. 

"Yeah...I told Zoe dat either she or Mercy should call Remy. He an' Dr. McCoy need to be ready for an emergency." Genard confirmed. 

When the three men got Emil downstairs, they placed him on the couch in the living room near the front of the safehouse. Zoe was just getting off the phone. 

"Remy's going to be here in about twenty minutes. Professor Xavier agreed to let him take the Blackbird once he found out we have a medical emergency here. Dr. McCoy will be waiting when we get there." 

"Should some of us stay here, in case de Assassins return from de mansion?" Mercy asked, walking down the hallway to join them. 

Theoren looked thoughtful. "Much as I hate to say it, yeah probably. I'll let Remy make de final call. He is de patriarch after all. But my own opinion is dat as few of us as possible should go." He reached down and lightly ran a finger along Emil's pale, bruised face. 

Fifteen minutes later, Remy arrived in the Blackbird. He helped them get Emil into the ship and then looked at the rest of them. "I can' take you all wit' me...Hank wants as few distractions as possible, at least for de first day or so. Mercy, I'd like you to come, b'cause you're as good as I am at calmin' Red down. We're gon' need dat when he wakes up. An' Hank gave me strict instructions to take de person who found him..." 

"Dat would be me." Genard said. 

Remy nodded. "Okay. You two are comin' wit' me. De rest of you stay here, until Hank gives de okay for you to join us up dere. Theo, you're in charge, use your own judgement. I will say dis, however. I don' wan' any retaliation of any kind against Gris-Gris unless Red don' make it, compris?" 

The three remaining thieves nodded in agreement. 

Half an hour later, Mercy and Genard were helping Remy get Emil out of the Blackbird. Hank was waiting for them when they got there, with a stretcher. "My stars..." He murmured, shaking his head over the brutality of Emil's injuries. As they walked to the MedLab, Hank questioned Genard about what Emil had said, and what he had done in between finding the red-haired young man and when help arrived. He seemed satisfied with Genard's answers, while Remy's eyes glowed in anger when Gris-Gris' name was mentioned. 

"I'm sorry, but I think it would be best if you waited out here for now." Hank told them once they reached the MedLab. 

"Sure Hank. Jus' take good care of 'im, okay?" Remy asked. 

"Of course, my friends. Of course." The door shut behind the furry blue doctor with a soft click. 

Remy started pacing almost immediately. He hated waiting, especially when he knew his best friend's life was in danger and he couldn't do anything to help. Genard sat down on one of the chairs and absently flipped through a magazine. Mercy sighed and intercepted Remy mid-pace. 

"Rem...he's in de best of care, you know dat better'n we do..." 

"I know...I know..." Remy sighed. "I can' help it. I hate dat assassin more'n I've ever hated anybody in my life, an' if Emil don' make it..." 

Mercy shook her head. "Emil's tougher dan dat. He'll be okay. We can' t'ink along de lines of him not bein' okay. Sure it's a possibility, but as far as I'm concerned, Genard found him in time an' we got him here in time. Imagine if we'd had to take a normal flight from New Orleans to here? We'd still be at de airport!" 

"Yeah you're right. See dis is one of de reasons I wanted you here. You put everythin' into perspective. No wonder Henri loved you so much." Remy smiled. 

They were soon joined by Professor Charles Xavier, founder of the Xavier Insititute for Higher Learning. The Institute was essentially a place where mutant youngsters could get a well-rounded education and learn to control their powers while living with other mutants. It was also the home base of the X-Men, a team of mutant outlaw superheros that Remy belonged to. Professor Xavier was quite possibly the most powerful telepath in the world, and had formed a quick alliance with the Guild members since first meeting them. 

The bald man went over to the doors of the MedLab and looked in, sighing deeply at what he saw. Then he turned and looked at Remy, Mercy and Genard, who were all seated by this time. 

"Whoever is responsible for inflicting such pain on that young man will come to learn it's in his best interest to leave well enough alone, I believe." 

"What makes you say dat, Professor?" Genard questioned. 

"Oh just a hunch I have, Genard. Just a hunch." Xavier said cryptically. 

To Be Continued... 


	2. Chapter Two

Punishment 

  


Chapter Two 

Back in New Orleans, Theoren was nearly beside himself with anger and worry. The Assassins were due back at the safehouse any moment. They had gone over to their mansion outside the city an hour and a half before Genard discovered Emil, and they were going to get quite a shock when they returned to the safehouse. Theoren was going to make sure of it. 

Zoe was sitting in an arm chair in the living room, absently watching the television. Claude was upstairs packing things that might be required when they went to join the rest of their family in Westchester. And Theoren, much like Remy in the MedLab waiting room, was pacing. 

Before long, the front door began to open. Upon hearing it, Zoe got up and moved to back Theoren and Claude descended the large staircase, packing forgotten. All three of them were waiting when the door opened to reveal the Assassins. 

Bella Donna Boudreaux, former Assassin matriarch and current viceroy of the Unified Guilds, was first, followed by Questa and Fifolet, who were carrying a trunk. After them was Singer, floating gracefully through the air as always. And bringing up the rear was the giant voodoo master named Gris-Gris. All five of them stopped in their tracks when they were met so abruptly by three thieves who looked anything but pleased. Fifolet and Questa set the trunk down. 

Bella Donna frowned. "Theoren? What's going on?" She asked. She and the other Assassins had no idea what had transpired in Emil's room earlier that day, and were completely in the dark. Gris-Gris cast a venomous glance in the direction of the thieves but said nothing. He started to close the door, but Theoren stopped him, reaching out and grabbing the door with his hand. 

Theoren looked directly at Gris-Gris, who was a good five inches taller than him and quite a bit stronger. "Get out of dis house." He commanded, his voice low and deadly. The two men shared the third-in-command position of the Guild but at that moment there was no question who was really in charge. Gris-Gris stepped back out of the house, expecting Theoren to slam the door in his face, but that didn't happen. 

"Theoren..." Bella Donna almost whined. "What...?" 

"De rest of you are more dan welcome to stay. He is not. If you wish to join him, go ahead." Theoren stated. 

"We'd like to know what's goin' on first..." Bel countered. She looked at Gris. "We'll meet you back at de mansion later, okay?" 

The black man nodded curtly and left. Theoren shut the door and faced the four remaining assassins. "If I could say it an' mean it, I'd say I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry, so I won' say it. Awhile b'fore you guys left earlier, Gris beat de crap outta Emil, worse dan he ever has b'fore, an' we don' know why. I assume he got mad at somethin' Emil said, but it doesn' matter now. De others are all up in New York...Dr. McCoy's takin' care of Emil. An' to be perfectly honest, Emil might die. Dat's how bad it is." Theoren's voice shook with anger and pain. "I swear to you right now, if Emil dies, nothin' an' no one on dis planet will protect dat man who jus' left here. I'm sick an' tired of dis crap from him an' it will stop. Now, like I said, you four are more'n welcome to stick 'round, since none of you have given us any problems since we worked out a peace for de unification. If you want to stay, by all means, stay. If you want to join him, dat's fine too. We'll call wit' updates on Emil's condition as we receive dem, if dat's de case." 

"Emil might die...?" Questa asked, his dark blue eyes filled with fear and worry. The thieves had learned over the course of the unification that Questa was quite possibly certifiably insane, and once they came to realize what had happened to him from the age of three to the age of eighteen to make him that way, they helped the rest of his family take care of him and protect him. Fifteen straight years of mental, physical and sexual abuse at the hands of his father, brother and their allies had left Questa scarred and damaged for life. He was thirty-four years old, but had a very short attention span and, when scared or confused, had the mentality of a young child. 

Theoren sighed softly at the younger man. "Yes, Questa, he might. But he might not, too, okay? 

Questa nodded slowly. He didn't understand why Gris-Gris seemed to hate the thieves so much. Especially Emil. Questa and Emil had formed a friendship since the unification began, and Gris-Gris' treatment of the young thief puzzled Questa. 

"I t'ink it might be best if we stayed at de mansion for now..." Bella Donna said quietly. "An' for what it's worth, I'm sorry for his behavior..." 

"Okay." Theoren replied. "An' I know you are. But until he is, it isn' gon' make it better." 

"You'll call when you hear anythin'?" Questa asked hopefully. 

"Of course we will. Or we'll get someone to call directly from de school, one or de other." Zoe assured him, mainly so Theoren wouldn't have to do all the talking. 

"Okay." Questa looked relieved. They all did. Relieved and worried. They all knew the importance of the unification and had tried time and again to get Gris-Gris to live with the peace, but he would never listen. There was unspoken knowledge in the room that none of them, thieves and assassins alike, wanted to think about. If Emil died, the unification would die with him. 

And none of them wanted to consider what would happen to them if that occurred. 

To Be Continued... 


	3. Chapter Three

Punishment   


Chapter Three 

It was six hours before Hank came out of the MedLab and informed Remy, Genard and Mercy that their presence was required. They followed him inside in complete silence and waited for him to clean his glasses. All they could do was stare at the still figure on one of the MedLab beds. 

Emil, who was normally always laughing, upbeat and driving everybody crazy, was now anything but. Monitors were hooked up beside him, humming lowly and beeping every once in so long. He was hooked up to all the monitors, and had tubes coming from everywhere, it seemed. He looked fragile and weak. Remy sighed. _"Dis sure ain' de vibrant Emil we all know an' love..." _He thought. Aloud, he said, 

"Give it to us straight, Hank." 

Hank put his glasses back on his face. "Aside from the visible injuries you've all seen, he is not in good shape at all. His right lung was collapsed; I've managed to right that problem, but neither of his lungs is stable enough to function on their own, which is why I've got him on the respirator." He motioned to one of the machines. 

"He's not breathin' on his own?" Mercy said softly. 

"No. He has three cracked ribs and two broken ribs. It was the broken ribs that injured his lung to begin with, they are both on the right side. They could still cause problems, which is why he will remain on the respirator until further notice. He suffered severe internal bleeding which I've been working to correct. Time is what will show if I fixed it all. He also has a minor concussion, which is why he's still unconscious right now. I expect him to wake up, even for a few moments, within the next three hours. However, the next eighteen to forty-eight hours will be the most critical." Hank told them. "Are there any questions?" 

"Is he gon' be okay?" Remy asked. 

"At this point, I cannot give you a yes or no answer, Remy. I do know he is in very bad shape and could get worse in a matter of seconds. I'm sorry." 

Remy nodded. He looked over at Mercy. "Why don' you go call de safehouse an' let dem know what we know so far? I'm sure dey're worried sick." 

"Okay..." Mercy agreed. "Dr. McCoy is dere a phone handy I can use?" 

"Of course, my dear. You may use the phone in my office, right through that door." 

"T'anks." Mercy replied, going into the office and shutting the door. She sat down at Hank's desk and picked up the phone receiver, her hand shaking slightly. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly and dialed the safehouse phone number. 

When the phone rang, the three thieves jumped and stared at it. Theoren couldn't move. He knew it was someone from the school calling and he was scared to death to answer it. After the third ring, Claude had enough and answered it, his voice cracking nervously. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey Claude. It's Merce. How're t'ings down dere?" 

"Well, Theo tol' Gris to get out of de house an' we told de others what happened. We promised Questa someone would call dem whenever dere was an update...he seemed pretty freaked out." Claude told her. "Uhm...speakin' of updates...I assume..." 

"Oui, we jus' talked to Dr. McCoy...first time since we got here, actually..." 

Claude looked at Theoren and Zoe, who were waiting semi-patiently at his side. "How's de kid doin'?" He asked, praying for the best and fearing the worst. 

Mercy sighed. "He's not doin' well at all Claude. Dr. McCoy's got him on a respirator b'cause his lungs ain' strong enough to work on deir own, he's got broken ribs an' some cracked ribs an' a lot of internal bleedin' an' a concussion. He hasn' woken up yet. Dr. McCoy says it could go either way. He looks...he don' look good, Claude. Not a bit....Oh...hang on a sec..." Mercy heard a knock on the door and looked up to find Remy standing there. 

Claude told the others what Mercy told him while he waited for Mercy to come back to the phone. 

"Merce, we gotta get out of here, now. One of de monitors jus' went wonky an' dat ain' a good t'ing. Hank wants us out." Remy said. 

"He's worse...?" 

"Oui." 

"Oh Dieu...okay." Into the phone she said, "Claude?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Somethin' happened...he's gettin' worse...I gotta go...I'll call back later..." 

The phone line went dead and Claude stared at the receiver, his face filled with fear, shock and panic. 

"What happened?" Theoren and Zoe demanded. 

"I don' know...she jus' came back on de line an' said she'd call back later...said somethin' happened an' he's gettin' worse..." 

With that news, Theoren sat down on the couch, buried his face in his hands and bawled like a little boy. Zoe sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders. She knew as well as the rest of them how much Emil meant to Theoren. They fought a lot, because they were so different, but they were cousins, and perhaps more importantly, when Emil's father had died when Emil was fourteen-years-old, Theoren had been named Emil's legal guardian. The idea that Emil was possibly dying scared and hurt Theoren more than anything else had in many years. 

Claude reset the phone and dialed a number. Bella Donna answered when the phone was picked up on the other end. 

"Hello?" Bel asked. She sounded stressed out and angry. She had probably been having a verbal war with Gris-Gris over the events that took place earlier in the day. 

"Bel? It's Claude. Mercy jus' called us from Westchester." Claude didn't recognize his own voice. He sounded calm and collected, but it made no sense, because inside he was just as scared and near tears as Theoren was. 

He heard Bella Donna announce to the other assassins that he was on the phone before she responded to him. "How is he?" 

"Right now...I don' know." Claude admitted. "He's got de collapsed lung, he's on a respirator, he's got broken an' cracked ribs, internal bleedin' an' a concussion. But 'fore I could get any more information, Mercy had to go. Somethin' bad happened an' all we know is, Emil's worse now dan he was when de call was made. Mercy said she'd call later." 

"He got worse dat quickly?" Bel was astonished. 

"Oui. One of us will call you back when we hear anythin', okay?" 

"Merci, Claude." 

Two hours later, the phone at the safehouse rang again. This time, Zoe took a turn at answering it, seeing that Claude had gotten Theoren interested in a game of chess. She knew the two men were trying to take their minds off what was going on with their family a long ways from there, and hoped it was working. 

"Hello?" Zoe said when she picked up the receiver. 

"Hi Zoe." It was Genard, not Mercy, who was calling this time. He sounded miserable. Zoe's heart sank. 

"Claude said Mercy hung up really quickly before...what happened?" Zoe questioned, not wanting to beat around the bush. She could feel Theoren and Claude watching her, their chess game forgotten between them on the coffee table. 

From his spot in Hank's office, Genard looked out the door at the MedLab, where Mercy and Remy were watching Hank go about his tests on Emil. Both of them had been crying, and Genard had offered to make the call. 

"Oui...well...in spite of de respirator workin' for Emil, somethin' went wrong inside him an' his lung collapsed 'gain. Dr. McCoy said one of de broken ribs moved or somethin', I don' know de technical stuff." Genard's voice dropped down to a whisper. "He almost died, Zoe...came so close we weren' sure he'd pull through..." 

"Oh my God..." 

"Dr. McCoy has to get de lung stabilized 'gain, so I gotta go, but I jus' wanted to call an' let you know what was goin' on. Jus' be prepared, I guess, b'cause he might not make it...." Tears welled up in Genard's eyes. "We'll call later." 

"Okay..." Zoe hung up the phone and looked at her two companions. She was pale. "The lung that had collapsed before was hit by one of the broken ribs and it collapsed again. I guess he came really close to dying...but he didn't...for now. Genard couldn't talk longer because Emil isn't stable, and Dr. McCoy needs to get that lung fixed again." 

"Critical condition is prob'ly what it's called...life-threatenin'..." Theoren said quietly. "Damn Gris-Gris! If Emil dies, I'll kill him an' anyone who stands in my way..." 

"We should call the mansion." Claude commented absently. 

"Yeah...I'll do it if you guys don't feel up to it..." Zoe offered. Both men nodded and Zoe dialed the number. She quickly told Singer, who had answered the phone at the mansion, what she knew and then hung up so Singer could relay the information to the rest of the assassins. Then she went into the kitchen to prepare something for them to eat for supper, since they still had to eat, even if it wasn't much and they didn't feel like it. 

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang again, interrupting the hotdogs the three thieves were trying to find the appetite to eat. They weren't expecting a call, and all of them frowned at the phone. Claude answered it since he was closer to the phone. He listened briefly for a moment and hung up, his jaw dropped in shock and disbelief. 

"Claude...?" Theoren asked. 

Claude shook his head and picked up the phone again. Both Theoren and Zoe recognized Remy's cellular phone number as Claude dialed it. They looked at each other and shrugged. 

Remy answered his cell phone, wondering what was up. He would have let the voicemail get it, but he recognized the safehouse number and knew it might be another emergency. "Hello?" 

"Remy it's Claude. Listen, can you get de Blackbird back down here?" 

"I...oui I guess so...why?" 

"Well, in spite of everythin', de two guilds are still unified, an' much as I know we're all really mad at him right now, he can' answer for his actions if he ain' alive to do it..." Claude replied. 

"What?" Remy demanded. He could hear Theoren and Zoe asking the same question from their spots near Claude in the safehouse. 

"After Genard called us an' told us Emil's worse, we called de mansion to let de assassins know, like we promised Questa we'd do. An' apparently we ain' de only ones wit' a beef wit' Gris 'bout all dis, b'cause I jus' got off de phone wit' Bella Donna. It seems dat when Singer told de others what Zoe told her about Emil bein' worse, Questa lost it. 

"What do you mean, he lost it?" Remy asked. 

"I mean, he pulled out his gun an' shot Gris in de head." 

Remy shook his head and sighed. "Twenty minutes. I'll meet everyone...you guys included...at de mansion." When he hung up the phone, he looked at Professor Xavier, who was waiting with them outside the MedLab. 

"Professor?" Remy asked. 

"Yes Remy?" 

"I t'ink you were right...but findin' out how you knew will have to wait...can I take de Blackbird back to Nawlins, dis time to pick up de whole Guild? Seems I can' let 'em outta my sight..." 

"Of course you may." Xavier replied. "And he is not dead..." 

"No I figured." Remy said. "T'anks." 

Mercy and Genard were confused. "Remy...what...?" Mercy voiced for them both. 

Remy chuckled. "Well, if Bel told it to Claude correctly, Gris is prob'ly in a coma right now. It would seem dat when he heard de news of Emil bein' worse, Questa shot Gris in de head." 

"No..! He didn'!" Mercy exclaimed. 

"We'll know soon enough. You two stay here. Call me if anythin' changes. I won' be long gettin' 'em all up here." 

To Be Continued... 


	4. Chapter Four

Punishment   


Chapter Four 

Remy didn't even bother knocking on the door of the mansion when he arrived. The main foyer was a shambles, very unlike it's usual orderly state. Remy took a quick survey of the situation and sighed. 

Theoren and Claude were helping Fifolet move things around to make it easier for them to carry Gris-Gris out of the mansion. Zoe and Singer were wrapping bandages around Gris' head and cleaning up the mess of blood around his large, still body. And Bella Donna was over near one of the corners, trying to get Questa to stand up without any luck at all. The black haired young man was sitting in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest, his dark blue eyes wide and horrified, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was watching everything around him but Remy had to wonder how much of what he was hearing and seeing was actually getting through to him. 

"Bel." Remy said. "C'mon. We gotta get Gris into de Blackbird. He'll have a better chance if we get him to Hank as soon as possible." 

"I t'ought you'd be happy...want him dead..." Bel murmured. 

Remy shook his head. "Like Claude said to me, de two guilds are still unified. We might be angry wit' him, but havin' him dead don' solve anythin'. If dey bot' live, den we can deal wit' what happened earlier, as a guild. We won' be able to do dat if he dies b'fore we get a chance to try'n save him. Now come on an' help us." 

The assembled thieves and assassins, without the help of Questa, had a tough time getting Gris-Gris secure in the Blackbird, but they managed. Remy told them all to stay put and buckle up. Then he walked back into the mansion. 

He walked over to where Questa was and knelt down. "Questa? I want you to come too, okay?" 

Questa blinked. "I'm sorry...I..." His shaky voice was barely above a whisper. 

"I know you are, Questa, I know." Remy reached out and put a hand gently on the other man's arm. "C'mon now...we gotta go to Westchester so Hank can take care of him. He's doin' everythin' he can for Emil, an' he'll do everythin' he can for Gris, too. But you gotta come wit' us." 

Questa shrank back into the corner, the tears continuing to call. "Don' wan'..." 

"Questa, listen to me. De sooner we get Gris to Hank, de better chance he has at survivin'...de more time you an' I waste sittin' here, de less chance he has at gettin' better. Do you understand me?" 

Questa nodded. "Oui..." 

"So...let's help do everythin' we can to make sure Gris lives, okay?" 

"Okay." Questa agreed. He got up and followed Remy out of the mansion and into the Blackbird. 

Twenty minutes later, the Blackbird had landed, but this time Hank hadn't been waiting to meet them. Professor Xavier was there, as was Genard, with a stretcher for them to put Gris-Gris on. They managed with very little trouble and were soon walking to the MedLab. 

Suddenly, Remy heard the Professor's voice in his mind, as the group walked along. _"He is not well..."_

Remy glanced back to try and figure out who Xavier was talking about and when he realized it, he shrugged and thought, _"Questa is prob'ly de mos' mentally unstable an' unwell person I've ever known...But he does have reasons."_

Xavier nodded and the link was cut. He was intrigued by Questa and wished he could examine the young man, but didn't dare try. Not yet. 

Hank met them at the door of the MedLab. "Now isn't this interesting!" He said with mock cheerfulness. "To have de attacker and the victim under the care of the same doctor. That is something that doesn't happen often." He motioned for them to place Gris on a bed about six feet across the room from where Emil lay, and then looked at Bella Donna. "What happened?" 

Bella Donna glanced sharply at Questa and he flinched. He was her cousin, but right now none of the assassins were happy with him and he knew it. He hung his head and went over to one of the corners of the MedLab, near the door of Hank's office, and resumed his position from the mansion of sitting on the floor hugging his knees. Bella Donna, satisfied with his reaction, answered the doctor's question. 

"Questa shot him." 

"With what kind of weapon?" Hank asked. 

"Handgun." Bel replied. "He always carries one." 

Hank nodded. "Okay. Well, I can't do my work with all of you in here, I'm sorry to say, so it would be better for my patients if you waited in the waiting room." He ushered them out as promptly as he could. 

"What 'bout...?" Remy looked at Questa. 

Hank smiled. "Oh he looks pretty comfortable where he is, and I don't imagine he'll get in the way or ask too many questions. If he does, I'll shoo him out." 

Questa sighed with relief when he was allowed to stay in the MedLab. Hank gave him a sympathetic smile as he went about his business of hooking Gris up to monitors and doing his initial examination. "You don't seem comfortable around them." 

"Non...'m not..." Questa replied. 

"Well I don't mind you staying here as long as you don't get in the way." 

"T'anks...uhm...is he gon' be okay?" 

"I'm not sure right now, but I can tell you I am here to do everything I can to ensure that he is, indeed, okay. Emil too. I will do everything I can for both of them, I promise." Hank assured him. "Now, I have to get to work, so I can't talk with you, but if you would like a book or a magazine to read, I have some in my office you may look at while you're here." 

"T'anks..." Questa said again, not bothering to tell Hank that he didn't know how to read very well. He picked himself up and went into the office, flipping through medical books until he found one that had a lot of pictures in it and didn't seem to be too full of words Questa didn't know the meanings of. He returned to the corner with the book and remained there without moving the whole time Hank operated on Gris. 

Hank's treatment of Gris went smoothly. The bullet wasn't very deep, and was removed fairly easily. Hank was glad, because once the bullet was removed, it was up to Gris to wake up, because there was nothing else physically wrong with the big man. He wanted to be able to focus more on Emil again. When he was finished with Gris, he went out to inform the rest of the waiting Guild what was going on and then came back to check on Emil. Before he did, he glanced over at Questa, who was still sitting in the corner looking at the pictures in the book and trying to figure out what some of the more complex pictures were supposed to be of. 

Hank walked over to him, a curious look on his face. "I would have thought you'd go for reading one of the magazines...I have _People_ in there...more interesting than that..." 

"Oh dis is okay! It's int'restin'!" Questa exclaimed a little too quickly. 

"Mm-hmm..." Hank replied. He pointed to one of the pictures on the page. "Can you tell me what this is a picture of?" 

Questa looked at the picture and frowned, trying to answer the question. "It's...I...uhm...I don' know..." 

Hank sighed. The description of the picture was right there underneath it. "It's a picture of what our intestines look like. Part of the human body. Questa...do you know how to read?" 

Questa looked away, tears forming in his eyes. "Non...not really..." 

"I see." Hank mused. "Would you like to learn? I believe you and your family will be staying here for a few days and Professor Xavier could start teaching you, if you would like..." 

"...Really...?" Questa asked, eyes wide. 

"Yes, really. Why don't you go ask him? He's out there waiting with the rest of the Guild." 

Questa frowned. "Non..." 

"I could bring him in here so you don't have to ask him in front of everybody. And I bet he could even teach you in here if you'd rather not leave the room just yet." Hank suggested. 

Questa nodded. "Okay..." 

Hank went to the door and asked Professor Xavier to join them. Xavier was confused. He hadn't thought his assistance would be required, but apparently he was wrong. 

"What is it, Henry?" He asked. "Is everything okay with your patients?" 

"They're both as stable as can be expected for the moment, Charles, but our other young friend here has a request to ask of you while he's here." 

"Oh?" 

Questa blushed slightly. He reminded Xavier of a young boy, not a grown man in his thirties. "Uh...sir...?" 

Xavier smiled. "What's on your mind, Questa? Don't be afraid to ask me; there is no such thing as a stupid question." 

"Sir...can you..." He sighed and frowned; he was having a hard time asking for help even in this. "Can you teach me how to read?" 

The smile widened. "I would be delighted, Questa." 

To Be Continued... 


	5. Chapter Five

Punishment   


Chapter Five 

"I don't understand it." 

Hank was puzzled. He scratched his furry blue chin with his equally furry blue hand and checked the monitors again. He could not see any real reason why Gris-Gris would still be unconscious. But yet, the big man continued to elude coming back to the waking world, and Hank had no idea why. 

"You should be awake by now, my friend." Hank told him. "It baffles me why you aren't." 

It was four days since Remy had brought the rest of the Guild up to Westchester. The day before, Hank had changed Emil's status to "serious but fairly stable" and the young thief had even woken up momentarily and complained of being sore. Gris-Gris remained unconscious across the room. Questa, who still wasn't being spoken to or acknowledged by the rest of the assassins divided his time between sitting in the MedLab apologizing to Gris' still, silent body and sitting in Professor Xavier's office while the older man attempted to teach him how to read. 

Xavier was pleased to have been given the chance to work with Questa even though teaching the young man how to read was no easy task. It gave the psychologist the opportunity he'd wanted: to examine Questa's behavior and try to win his trust. After four days, Xavier had learned that teaching the skittish assassin how to read was much, much easier than earning his trust. 

However, Xavier had picked up on a wish Questa had been expressing since he arrived in Westchester, and had placed the appropriate phone call to see about making that wish come true. If anything could make the young man finally relax surely it would be getting a very pleasant surprise in the middle of all the unpleasantness. While Hank was puzzling over the fact that Gris hadn't woken up yet, Questa was sitting obediently in Xavier's office, struggling to read the text Xavier had put in front of him aloud. Xavier, seeing and sensing Questa's frustration, was about to open his mouth to tell his student to take a break for a little while when there was a knock on the office door. 

"That's enough for now, Questa. I can see you're getting frustrated." Xavier said before telling the person on the other side of the door, "Come in." 

The mahogany door opened to reveal a young man with unruly blond hair and sharp blue eyes. Questa looked at him curiously. He had seen the boy around the halls of the mansion before, and knew his name was Bobby Drake, but beyond that, Questa avoided him the way he avoided all of them. 

"Sorry to interrupt, Professor, but that surprise you called for has arrived. What should I do with them?" 

"Dem?" Questa asked softly, wondering what on earth Bobby was talking about. Even more puzzling was the huge smile on the professor's face. 

"Why don't you send them in, Bobby? I think our young Cajun friend here will really enjoy seeing them." Xavier suggested. 

"Sure." Bobby replied and left the room. Moments later, Questa got the shock of his life and all he could do was stare and smile. 

Scott Summers and Jean Grey-Summers were two of the first young mutants who ever came to live at the Institute. They, along with Hank McCoy, were part of the original team of X-Men when the team was founded. And in the two years just following the unification of the Guilds, Jean had spent many days and nights visiting New Orleans. She had become a trusted friend and confidant to all the Guild members, and in particular, to Emil and Questa, whom she thought of as brothers. A year-and-a-half ago, Scott and Jean, upon learning that Jean was pregnant with their daughter Rachel, decided to try and give their daughter the kind of life they never could before. They moved back to Scott's original home in Alaska and stopped using their mutant powers all together. And consequently, Jean stopped visiting the Guilds. To see Jean and Scott, along with Rachel, now a toddler, standing there as if they'd never left...Questa was speechless. 

Jean laughed, her eyes dancing at the sight of him. "Well Questa aren't you going to say anything?" Jean knew more about Questa's problems than just about anyone, and had hoped he'd be better than he appeared to be by now. 

"Jeannie...you really here...dis not my head playin' tricks on me...?" 

"Yes I'm really here, silly! Charles called us and invited us to come down to visit while you and the others were here." Jean said. "He seemed to think you would get the most benefit out of it..." 

Questa looked at Xavier. "T'ank you, sir..." 

Xavier smiled. "You're quite welcome, Questa. I've got some things I'd like to discuss with Scott, so why don't you and Jean go for a walk? I'm sure you've got a lot of catching up to do." 

The first five minutes of the walk were spent in silence. Finally, Jean spoke. She wanted to know what was going on. "Questa...? What happened?" 

Questa sighed. "Where you want me to start?" 

"Well the last time I was speaking with you, you were so happy and everything seemed to be going well for everyone, yourself included. Now..." 

"Shelby left." Questa said quietly. "She got fed up wit' me bein' de way I am an' not bein' able to get past it. I still have nightmares an' stuff, but mos'ly it's other t'ings....so she left. Everythin' else was okay, until de other day..." 

"When Gris broke his promise to me and beat up Emil." Jean stated. 

"Oui. Beat him up real bad too...worse dan ever b'fore. Emil almost died...so many times...even now, Dr. McCoy's not fully sure he'll recover completely." Questa admitted. "An' when I found all dis out...I don' know what came over me, Jean, I really don'...I jus' lost every sense of everythin' I had. I jus' flipped out an'...I shot him." 

Tears rolled down Questa's cheeks. "I ain' never regretted shootin' anyone...but de second I shot Gris, I regretted it...I was so sorry...I am so sorry...but I can' take it back...an' now dey're all mad at me..." 

Jean stopped and wrapped her arms around her friend comfortingly. "Shhh...I know. You were upset with him for hurting Emil and for jeopardizing the unification, weren't you?" 

"Uh-huh..." 

"I think that's probably why you did it. Add that stuff to how upset I know you were and still are over Shelby leaving you, and it's like a time-bomb getting set to explode. It's not your fault, really." Jean assured him. "If you were anybody else, it wouldn't have happened. But you're you, and you can't help being the way you are. Why don't we go down to the MedLab and say hi to everyone? Maybe I can help Hank with Emil and Gris, you never know." 

"Okay." Questa agreed, sniffling. He knew the assassins didn't want to see him, but the thieves hadn't been treating him any differently. Plus, it had been awhile since he was in the MedLab, and he wanted to know how Emil and Gris were doing. 

When they got there, they found that Hank was in his office speaking with Remy and Bella Donna privately. Fifolet and Singer were sitting beside Gris' bed, while the thieves were in various positions near Emil. Jean laughed gently at them. 

"Bonjour, my friends! Don't look so glum! They have the best doctor in the world and you know it!" 

"JEAN!" Five thieves and two assassins exclaimed in unison. The seven surged around her, talking excitedly with her and asking all sorts of questions. Questa, feeling rather invisible and left out, shrank back against the corner he preferred and waited for the hussle to die down. 

In the office Hank, Remy and Bella Donna looked out, hearing the noise. "Ah...it would seem Charles called Jean and Scott and asked them to visit." Hank commented. "And from here it looks like having Jean here will do wonders for the morale of your family. However, we still need to discuss our patients." 

"Go on, Hank." Remy encouraged. 

"Emil is improving a little each day, I can see it even if the rest of you cannot. He is still very weak, and I don't dare try having him breathe on his own just yet. We don't need any more close calls. His surface wounds are healing nicely, but the internal injuries will take quite a bit longer. I know you and the others are concerned about the fact that he hasn't woken up much, or for very long, but believe me, he is only sleeping and he needs all the rest he can get." 

"So de rest is better for him dan bein' awake..." Bel said. 

"Yes, that's right. If he keeps improving the way he has been, he'll be awake and driving everyone crazy again in a few days." Hank laughed. He had had Emil as a patient before and knew just how annoying the young redhead could be. "Now, as for Gris-Gris, I am perfectly and completely stumped. I have examined him and tested him and I cannot for the life of me figure out why he hasn't woken up yet. There is no reason for him to remain unconscious." 

"Are you serious, Hank?" Remy asked. 

"Yes! There is no medical reason that I can see why the assassins should not be getting ready to go home tomorrow. And yet, until he wakes up and I'm satisfied he is okay, he will be remaining here." I just don't know why he's not waking up." 

"Perhaps..." Bel stopped herself before walking out of the room. She motioned for Fifolet and Singer to follow her, said they were going for a walk. 

Remy looked at Hank and shrugged. "Maybe she t'inks privacy would help, since Jean's here an' all..in fact..." He raised his voice to the rest of the thieves. "I t'ink Bel's got a good idea...let's go get some fresh air, mes amis. Let Jean do her visitin' wit' Emil an' Gris." 

Jean smiled at Remy's words and watched them leave. Before Remy followed them out, he paused and looked at Questa. "You wan' come, Questa? Some fresh air might do you some good too." 

Questa looked alarmed at the idea and then caught the enouraging look on Jean's face and stood up again and headed for the door. "Okay..." 

"It is good to have you here, my friend." Hank said, coming over to Jean as she sat beside Emil's bed. "And I believe he will think so as well." 

Jean smiled at the young thief. "I've missed him." She said, reaching up and gently laying a soft hand on Emil's pale, bruised cheek. "He's like the little brother I never had. I've never seen him look this bad before." 

"Our other patient over there did quite a number on him." Hank commented. 

"Yes...Questa told me." Jean sighed. "Will he be okay?" 

"With enough time, rest and love, I don't see why he can't make a full recovery. But I'll leave you be for a moment. He might wake up for you. He woke up for Remy earlier." 

Jean closed her eyes and reached out her telepathy to Emil. _"Emil? Little brother, it's Jean. Can you hear me?"_

There was a twitch in Emil's subconscious. He heard her. _"Jean? Dieu...it hurts so bad..."_

_"I know it does...don't talk if it hurts...I just wanted to tell you I'm here, sitting beside you in the MedLab. Scott and I took Rachel here for a little vacation. We'll be here for a week, so you focus on getting better and we'll talk later. I love you, kiddo."_

_"You're really here?" _Emil's eyes fluttered open to see for himself. When he saw Jean sitting there, he tried to smile, but winced in pain instead. _"I'm glad you're here, Jean...so tired...can I sleep now...?"_

Jean gently took one of his hands in hers and squeezed softly. "Of course you can go back to sleep." She told him aloud. With a pained but content sigh, Emil closed his blue eyes again and drifted back off to sleep almost immediately. 

Jean sat there for a moment and then looked over at Gris-Gris. It was very unusual to see the big man hurt in any way. Hank was adjusting one of the I.V. tubes and felt Jean watching. "He's got a thick skull." He commented. 

Jean laughed quietly. "Yeah I know. In more ways than one. So...Questa shot him in the head?" 

"Yes, but he was lucky in that the bullet didn't go deep. Didn't even penetrate badly. I don't think Questa was really trying to kill him, if he even knew what he was doing." Hank said. "I was able to remove the bullet without any problems. That was four days ago. I'm still trying to figure out why he hasn't woken up. By all means, he and the other assassins should be leaving for home in the morning." 

"Perhaps I can help." Jean suggested. "Let me talk to him, if his subconscious is awake in there, and maybe I can convince him to wake up." 

"Okay. Give it a try. It's better than anything else I can think of." 

_"Gris-Gris..."_ Jean opened her telepathy for the second time in five minutes, this time searching for the assassin. 

_"Go 'way."_ A stern voice commanded sharply. He didn't recognize her voice in his mind and Jean had to laugh. 

_"What are you doing in here, building a retirement home?"_

Suddenly Gris appeared in view in his own mind. _"Jean..."_ His eyes were wide. 

_"The one and only! So...tell me something. Do you remember what I said to you the last time you beat him up?" _Jean asked him. 

_"You said you'd kill me..."_ Gris was quiet. 

_"And you know I can do it too. Well I'm not going to, because I think there's enough other people mad at you for it and I'd hate to kill you before they got hold of you, but Gris...why'd you do it?"_

_"You know what happens when I get mad...he pissed me off so badly...I couldn' stand it anymore...I can' stand him. He's a spoiled, obnoxious little brat an' I want him dead."_

_"Jovan Neville!" _Jean exclaimed angrily. _"You claim to care about tradition and honor and other such things that make you proud of your heritage, and yet you're willing to throw part of that away just because you don't like the thieves, and in particular, Emil?"_

A shrug. _"Maybe."_

_"And I suppose you're mad at Questa now, like the other three are."_

_"He shot me. You speak of honor an' tradition, Jean? Well, we have a creed in our Guild dat we all take. It states dat we do not, unless under dire circumstances, make any attempt to injure or kill one of our own. He broke dat creed. Hell yeah I'm mad at him. Why do you t'ink I ain' wakin' up? If I see him, I'll kill him. I'm surprised one of de others hasn' yet."_

Jean was horrified. So much hatred...so much pain...not just from him but from the other assassins as well. And from Questa, so much fear, uncertainty and misery. _"Gris, I think you should grow up and wake up so you guys can go home. And I swear to you if any of you lay a finger on either Emil or Questa from here on in, so help me, I will personally take you to the sun and drop you myself."_

"Hank?" Jean asked. "I think our voodoo master will be waking up soon." 

As if on cue, Gris' dark brown eyes opened and he promptly glared at Jean, who merely gave him her most charming smile and moved to give Hank some room. "I love you too, Gris." 

Gris muttered something in French under his breath and allowed Hank to examine his vital signs. Jean decided to go see what the rest of the Guild members were up to, and in particular, warn Remy about the possible fall-out that might take place between the assassins. 

To Be Continued... 


	6. Chapter Six

Punishment   


Chapter Six 

Bella Donna, Fifolet and Singer were returning to the MedLab when they saw Jean leaving. Jean smiled at them as they approached her. 

"I have some good news for you. Gris-Gris is awake. He's pretty mad at me right now, but he's awake, and I'm sure he'd like to see you three." She told them. "Do you happen to know where the others are?" 

"Outside, I b'lieve." Bel replied. 

Sure enough, when Jean walked outside into the fresh spring air, she heard the familiar Cajun accents close by. They sounded concerned, and Jean wondered why. She walked around the side of the mansion to where the voices were drifting from and saw Remy, Theoren, Mercy, Claude, Genard and Zoe looking anything but peaceful. She noticed Questa was nowhere to be found and this worried her, but she decided to talk to the thieves first. 

"Gris-Gris is awake." She told them. 

"Oh good, can we go kill him now?" Claude grimaced. 

"Claude..." Jean chided. "He wants Emil dead, apparently because Emil is annoying and obnoxious." 

"What else is new?" Zoe sighed. "He's wanted Emil dead forever.We're scared one of these days he'll succeed..." 

"I told him if anyone lays even one finger on Emil from now on, I'll personally fly them to the sun and drop them." Jean laughed, but she didn't find it funny. "He's not too impressed with me for that. Or with the fact that I told him the same thing in regards to Questa." 

"Might not have a choice dere, Jean." Mercy commented. "Questa was tellin' us earlier 'bout how he broke some kind of sacred creed by shootin' Gris..." 

Jean sighed. "Yes...Gris spoke of that to me. Said that was why he didn't wake up...told me if he sees Questa, he'll kill him." 

"Dat's pretty much what Questa said..." Remy agreed. "He's scared of dem...'specially Gris. He got pretty worked up while we were talkin'...kept goin' on 'bout d'servin' to be punished an' bein' scared an' stuff." 

"Where is Questa now?" 

"He took off towards de middle of nowhere." Theoren said. "We tried to stop him, but a t'ief tryin' to stop an assassin who always carries a loaded gun or three is a dead t'ief." 

"Remy?" Jean questioned. The middle of nowhere meant nothing to Jean, but hopefully Remy had an idea of which direction Questa was headed in. 

"Towards de city. He sure as hell wasn' stickin' 'round here." Remy confirmed. "My guess is, he's gon' try to find a way to punish himself for what he did. An' you know dere's no better place to find punishment dan New York City." 

"Oh good lord..." Jean shook her head. "We need to get him back here before he gets himself killed. Remy, do you know if Logan is around?" 

"Not sure, Jean, you'd have to ask de professor. He'll know. We're gon' go back to de MedLab. Yell if you need us to help find Questa, okay?" Remy said. 

"Okay...thanks." 

Jean knocked lightly on the door to Professor Xavier's office. She knew Scott had taken Rachel to the attic to see their friend Ororo Munroe and that the professor would be alone. 

"Charles? We have a small crisis on our hands..." 

"Questa." Xavier said easily. "He ran off, didn't he." 

"Yes." Jean sighed. "And we need to get him back. Remy said he was heading for New York City. He was upset over everything that's been happening, and how he broke this creed the assassins have...Gris wants to kill him. It's just a mess. I want to go try to find him, but I need Logan to come with me to help with the search, especially once we get to the city." 

"I'll call Logan in a moment." Xavier promised. "But first, would you tell me about Questa? You were always very vague when you mentioned him to me. He seems to be a very troubled young man." 

"The briefest version I can give you is this." Jean explained. "His mother died when Questa was three, leaving him at the mercy of his father and much-older brother, Percy, who both hated him from the moment they saw him and didn't want him around. Not long after his mother died, they began a pattern of abuse that continued and got much worse for fifteen years. They abused him mentally, physically and eventually sexually. When he was a teenager, they enlisted friends of theirs to help them. They beat him and raped him everyday until he was eighteen. Gris tried to kill them, and thought he'd succeeded, until we learned a couple of years ago that the Guild benefactress, an External known as Candra, had saved them. They kidnapped Questa again two years ago and continued the pattern of abuse. He was rescued by a young woman named Shelby, who had also suffered many years of abuse at the hands of her father. She had escaped and put all her demons to rest, and she tried to help Questa do the same. She went down to New Orleans and stayed with them, and Questa finally started to learn that love did exist in this world, even for him." 

Xavier had listened in shocked silence, but he sensed there was more to it than that. "But...?" 

"The years of abuse pretty much left Questa scarred for life. He suffers from nightmares and long bouts of severe depression. He's tried to kill himself a number of times, but dying isn't really what he wants. He's a trained, professional assassin, and he's very good at his job. If he wanted to die, he could kill himself easily. He told me today that Shelby left him." Jean sighed again. "He didn't quite say why, but I assume it had something to do with his inability to give her everything she wants and needs out of a relationship. He needs those things too, but he's never experienced them so he doesn't know what he's missing." 

"Love, romance, physical contact that doesn't cause pain..." Xavier murmured. 

"Yes, I assume so." Jean nodded. "A lot of times, especially when he gets scared or confused, Questa has the mentality of a young child. He runs when he gets scared. It comes from trying to hide from his father and brother. And he's scared now, only this time he's scared of the other assassins and the punishment they might give him for breaking their creed of honor. So he's running." 

"Do you believe if you find him, you can bring him back?" Xavier asked. 

"He trusts me. I'm the first person outside the Assassins Guild who knew anything at all about his past and why he acts the way he does. He told me everything himself, without their help. If I find him, I'm positive I can bring him back. It might take some work, but I can." Jean said firmly. "I just need Logan to help me locate him." 

"Very well." Xavier pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Logan? Are you there?" 

"Yep Chuck what's up?" 

"Can you meet myself and Jean in my office as soon as possible, please? Jean requires your assistance in tracking down a friend of hers who has run away from us." 

"Sure thing. Be there in five." 

Five minutes later, Logan was walking into the office, smoking a cigar. He looked ready for anything. He had on a pair of cowboy boots, jeans, a black t-shirt and his old brown jacket. 

"Thanks, Logan. I really appreciate this. Remy will too." Jean smiled. "The guy we're going to look for is a member of the Guild. His name's Questa. Last time anybody saw him, he head headed for the city. We need to hurry. He does know his way around here a little bit and could be quite far by now." 

"Well, what're we waitin' fer, then? Let's get goin'!" 

To Be Continued...   
  



	7. Chapter Seven

Punishment   


Chapter Seven 

Jean wasn't wrong. Questa had actually managed to hitch a ride right into New York City by the time Jean and Logan set out on their search for him. He was alone and scared in a huge city he didn't know very well, but he didn't care. Anything was better than being back where the guild was, especially if the rest of the assassins really did want to kill him. 

As Questa walked along the streets, ignoring everybody, it began to rain. Not only that, but it was windy, and Questa was only wearing his usual combination of jeans and a t-shirt with his sneakers, so he wasn't really protected from the chilly spring rain and wind. As umbrellas popped up all around him, he wished he was a thief so he could steal one and try to keep dry as he walked. Within minutes, he was drenched to the skin all over, his hair was falling in his eyes and he couldn't stop shivering. He wasn't expecting anybody to take pity on him and sure enough, none of the people hurrying around him paid him a bit of attention. _"If dis was Nawlins, somebody woulda given me a coat or somethin' by now..." _He thought with a deep, shaky sigh. He wished he was home. He wished none of the events of the past four days had ever happened. He wished... 

_"I wish it would stop rainin'."_

Sighing again, Questa ducked into an alley even though he knew it wouldn't give him any cover from the rain. He just wanted to get out of that biting wind for a few minutes. His arms looked like they were turning blue. He almost laughed at that thought but he was much to cold to consider it. He furiously rubbed his hands over his bare arms, shivering violently. Even his teeth were chattering. _"I hate de cold..."_

Questa suddenly heard something behind him in the alley. Why hadn't he thought to check to make sure it was empty first? He could have kicked himself for his stupidity. He slowly turned around, remembering that he still had his gun if he needed it, and found himself faced with what looked like a small street gang. 

There were eight men, all of them larger and more muscular than Questa. Each one of them carried a weapon of some sort, everything from chains to knives to guns. Even with his years of training as an assassin, Questa knew when he was out matched. If he'd had Gris-Gris and Fifolet with him, he wouldn't have thought twice about fighting the eight men, but he was alone, and with the odds as bad as they were, he knew better than to try to take them on except in self-defense. 

They had him surrounded in a matter of seconds. "Well boys, looks like we got ourselves a play-thing to keep us occupied until the rain stops." The obvious leader of them stated, venom in his voice. Questa couldn't tell if he was shaking more from the cold or from fear at that point. The leader took a swing at Questa with the chain in his hand and Questa's reflexes kicked in. He caught the chain neatly and pulled, hard, forcing the gang leader to his knees. 

The leader got up, a smirk on his face. "So you ain' a statue, I'm impressed. Where'd you learn to do that so neatly?" 

"Trainin'." Questa replied shortly, blocking a swing taken at him by one of the other gang members with a lead pipe. Questa cringed as his arm connected with the pipe; he heard a bone snap and pain shot through his arm. Still, it was better to have a broken arm than to have the pipe connecting with his head. He'd been beaten enough times by his father with an iron poker to know that getting smucked in the head with something like that was most painful. 

Questa fought them off as best he could, but he failed in the end. Memories from his childhood flashed through his mind with every kick, hit and blow and he eventually passed out from the pain and cold with almost as many injuries as Gris had given to Emil. 

He remained there, in the alley, cold rain pelting down mercilessly on his battered body, unaware that help was going to be there sooner than he ever imagined. 

"Jeannie!" Logan yelled from the entrance of the alley twenty minutes later. He had caught the scent of the young assassin a little while before. It had been hard to get a good lock on where Questa was because of the wind and rain, but he had finally located the elusive killer. And from what Logan was seeing, things didn't look good at all. "Looks like Hank's gettin' himself another patient." He commented as Jean joined him. 

"Oh my God!" Jean exclaimed. She called out to Questa telepathically, only to be answered with nothing but silence. "He's unconscious...and he's freezing...Logan we have to get him back to Westchester as soon as possible!" 

Logan pulled out his cell phone and dialed the mansion, while turning on the tracking device in his watch. "Chuck? Logan. Can you send the Blackbird to our location in New York City? Jean and I found Questa, but he's hurt pretty bad. We need to get him back there quick....Okay...okay good...thanks." 

Ten minutes later, with the help of Bobby and Scott, who had left Rachel with Ororo for the duration of the emergency, they were rushing Questa into the MedLab and Hank was ushering everybody out, except for Jean and Emil, who wouldn't be in any condition to go anywhere for quite some time. He even sent Gris out with the other assassins, with a warning to all of them that Gris-Gris wasn't to leave the mansion. 

"Y'know..." Remy said to the assassins as the doors of the MedLab closed behind Hank. "He was sorry for his actions de second dey were done. He's been nothin' but sorry for what he did, an' nothin' but terrified at what you four were gon' do to him. Dat's why he ran off. Judgin' from de looks of him, his punishment has been handed down." 

In the MedLab, Hank was had just finished taking Questa's vital signs and was frowning. "He's so cold, Jean...his heart's barely beating. I hate to say it, but I'm afraid he was in the cold and rain so long without proper protection from the elements that he might quickly develop pneumonia. If that happens, and it's quite likely it will, it will be even more difficult to treat his other injuries. And, if he does develop pneumonia, I will have to put him on a respirator, like Emil is, because no way will he be able to breathe on his own without further injuring himself." 

He and Jean had hurriedly gotten the injured assassin out of his wet clothes and into something warmer and considerably drier, but his body tempterature wasn't going up quickly enough to make Hank happy. X-rays eventually showed that aside from the broken arm, Questa had four broken bones in his left hand from trying to fight back, six fractured ribs of varying degrees of severity, a bruised kidney and a serious concussion, as well as the multitude of bruises that covered his body. 

Jean sighed. "Keep doing what you can for him, Hank. I'll go tell the others what's going on so far." 

"Okay Jean. Thank you." 

Jean left the MedLab and faced the waiting guild members. The assassins were there, somewhat to Jean's surprise. She hadn't expected them to stick around, but they had, and looked a little less angry and vengeful than they had before. Also waiting were Professor Xavier, Scott, Bobby and Logan. 

"Jean?" Remy sounded tired and worried. The week had been taking a huge toll on all of them, but none moreso that their patriarch. "What can you tell us?" 

"Logan and I assumed he was beaten up, and Hank doesn't disagree. But until we can actually talk to Questa, we won't know for sure." Jean stated. "He suffered severe injuries from the attack. He has a serious concussion, six fractured ribs, a badly bruised kidney, a broken right arm and four broken bones in his left hand." 

"Ouch." Bobby winced, voicing everybody's opinion of what Jean just told them. 

"On top of that, because he was exposed for so long to the cold, rainy elements...it started raining not long after Logan and I left to find him, and we're not sure exactly how long he'd been lying in the alley, unconscious and unprotected...Hank is concerned that he'll develop pneumonia. He says it's quite likely. Pneumonia would raise a lot of complications in treating his other injuries." 

"Bottom line?" Bella Donna asked. She tried not to let it, but her voice betrayed how worried she was about her cousin. 

"Bottom line is, he's going to be staying here awhile, just like Emil. They're both in need of the care and treatment Hank can give them, and until he feels they're well enough to go home to New Orleans, they're staying here." Jean said firmly. "Hank will probably come out later to answer any questions you might have. Right now, please leave him alone so he can do his work." 

To Be Continued... 


	8. Chapter Eight

Punishment   


Chapter Eight 

"Jean, you should get some rest." Scott lay a hand gently on his wife's shoulder. "You can't do anything for them right now, they're resting, like Hank said they should." 

It was two days since Jean and Logan had brought a very injured Questa back to the Institute. In that time, neither he nor Emil had woken up. Jean was sitting in a chair in between the two MedLab beds. Emil was to her left, Questa to her right. Both young men were hooked up to monitors and respirators. It was going on midnight and Jean was exhausted. She was worried sick about her two friends and had barely left their side since she and Scott had arrived. Emil was slowly getting better, but Questa had, as Hank predicted, developed pneumonia, and was in bad condition. 

"I know, Scott, I know. But I hate to leave them alone..." Jean admitted. 

Scott was thoughtfully quiet for a few moments. "Why don't I stay with them, then, if you're worried about leaving them alone? I can handle sitting here with them for a few hours while you get some sleep." He suggested finally. "Besides, I'd like to talk to them, even if they can't talk back at the moment." 

Jean hesitated, but finally agreed. "Okay. I don't need to remind you what to do if something goes wrong with one of them do I...?" 

"Of course not!" Scott laughed. "Call Hank and then call you. Now shoo! I'll see you in the morning." He kissed her gently and she left the MedLab. 

Scott sat down in the same chair between the beds where Jean had been and shook his head. "You know, boys, there's a good chance if something were to go wrong, she'd know it before I would. That's just how she is." He kept talking even though neither one of them was awake, because he had things he wanted to say to them. "Leaving here was hard...hard on both of us. This mansion was our home for so long...the people here our family...and it was an extremely tough decision to leave. We couldn't think of any other alternative, though, and eventually, we got used to the idea somewhat, especially once we were settled in Alaska. But you know, sometimes I think it was harder on Jean to break off contact with you guys. She thinks of both of as the brothers she never had, and it broke her heart to leave the way we did, without being able to give you and the others much warning. She thinks highly of all the Guild members...yes even Gris from time to time...and loves you all more than she knows how to express to you." 

He chuckled lightly. "Everything you guys sent to us...she's got on display in our home. She's saved every letter, printed every email...they're all filed away in a special folder in the filing cabinet. She mentioned once that she told you she would always be with you in some form when you need her, and I know it might not seem like it to you, but it's the truth. She thinks of you all the time. I don't know how she does it, but she manages to bring up something related to the time she would spend with you at least once a day. A memory or a joke or anything at all that showed she was thinking about you. I think one of these days...later this summer maybe...we'll have to take Rachel down to New Orleans for a visit. I know Jean would love that, and I can only imagine how you two would react. Just...please don't ever think she abandoned you, because she didn't. We just had to put our family...our daughter...first and protect her life above anyone else's. If we could have done it another way, we would have, I promise you that. Now you guys focus real hard one getting better, okay? I think Jean would like to actually talk to you both before we head back to Alaska." 

Scott stopped talking and suddenly became aware that he wasn't alone. He turned in his chair to see Remy leaning just inside the doorway. Scott cast him a half-embarrassed, questioning glance, and Remy shrugged. 

"Couldn' sleep, t'ought I'd come check on 'em. Shoulda known Jeannie would leave 'em in good hands." 

Scott turned back. "I had a few things I wanted to tell them. Found it easier when they couldn't talk back." 

Remy nodded. "Oui, I can understand dat. Sometimes I feel like puttin' gags on all'a 'em while I'm talkin' 'bout somethin', jus' so dey don' interrupt or start a discussion 'bout it 'fore I'm done. Y'know, mon ami, dose two miss Jeannie somethin' fierce, even now." 

"She misses them too." 

"I t'ink dey know dat, deep down. It's hard for dem to comprehend it...all dey're used to is people leavin' or hurtin' 'em once dey've had enough of dealin' wit' our way of life. But Emil an' Questa know Jean loves dem, it's jus' taken 'em some gettin' used to de fact dat she don' visit or call or nothin'." Remy explained. 

"If there'd been any other way, Remy..." Scott protested. "You know we would have done it. She got so attached to them...sometimes I felt like I was losing my wife to a bunch of people I didn't even know!" He sighed. "Looking at these two laying here so helpless right now makes me regret ever feeling that way. She cares about the others too, of course, but somehow, Emil and Questa got the most of her affections. I was jealous." 

"Understandable, 'specially since you didn' know why she kept goin' to Nawlins, jus' dat she was goin'." Remy commented. 

"You won't tell her?" 

"She knows, Scott. You know she does. De woman's psychic, 'member?" Remy laughed and then sighed. "I jus' hope dey wake up b'fore you go home." 

"Yeah, me too. I think Jean would get just as much out of that as they would. Do you think things will be okay once you all get back to New Orleans, Remy?" 

A shrug. "Who knows anymore. Sometimes I wonder if de guilds should even be unified..." 

"Don't get up on them, Remy. I know it's been a few years now but it's not the easiest thing in the world to go from being enemies to being family." Scott reminded. "They need more time. Even Gris-Gris will come around, if he's given enough time." 

A laugh sounded from the doorway. Remy had known Theoren was there long before the thief made a sound, but Scott didn't have the trained thief ability to sense another thief's presence. "Gris-Gris needs a complete personality overhaul b'fore he'll even b'gin to come around." 

Remy grinned. "Seems to me you two haven' met yet. Scott Summers, I'd like you to meet my cousin an' second-in-command of de t'ieves side of de guild, Theoren Marceaux. Theo, dis is Jean's husband Scott." 

The two men shook hands and Scott yawned. "Only way I could get Jean to get some sleep was to say I'd stay here wit' dese two, but if you guys are gon' be 'round..." 

"I'm up for de rest of de night...can' sleep. I'll be here, if you wan' go join her..." Theoren said, a worried frown crossing his face. He had been trying not to let his concern for Emil and Questa get the better of him, but late at night, it was almost impossible for him to stop thinking. 

Scott, relieved to have an excuse to go to bed now that he had said what he wanted to say to Emil and Questa, thanked Theoren and left the MedLab. Theoren and Remy looked at each other. It was a well-known fact in the guild that Theoren hated Remy, but that never stopped them from working together for the sake of the guild when the need arose. Remy sighed. 

"When was de las' time you got any sleep yourself, Theo?" 

Theoren shrugged, his brown eyes betraying his fatigue and worry. "Prob'ly de night b'fore all dis happened." He laughed. It was forced, but it was still a laugh. "Been so scared of losin' Emil dat I ain' really t'ought 'bout anythin' else, y'know?" 

"Oui." Remy agreed. "But I don' t'ink you have to worry 'bout it too much...ol' Red's bounced back from stuff like dis b'fore." 

Theoren sat down in the chair Scott had been using and reached up, taking Emil's still hand in his own. "I tol' Bella Donna an' de other assassins, b'fore any of de rest of it happened dat if Emil died, I'd kill Gris an' anyone who stood in my way. I t'ink de unification is a bust, Rem." 

Remy shook his head. "Non, Theoren, it isn'. When Questa shot Gris, who did dey call for assistance? You, Claude an' Zoe. Dey could have jus' as easily called me up here de way Claude did an' get me to bring help. But dey didn' do dat, Theo, dey called you guys first. Dat tells me one t'ing. De unification is stronger dan we t'ink. Gris will have to be dealt wit', but it will be done by all of us as a group, once dis is over." 

"You amaze me sometimes, Remy." Theoren sighed, wishing silently that Emil would try to squeeze his hand or something. Anything to show he was there and could hear them. 

"How's dat, Theo?" 

"Your ability to...I don' know...deal wit' it, I guess. Everythin' we t'row at you, you jus' look at us like we're a bunch of silly children an' keep on goin' 'bout your job of bein' our leader. I used to t'ink Jean-Luc was crazy to leave you in charge, but now I'm not so sure." 

"Well t'ank you. I'll take dat as a compliment to bot' me an' my father." Remy laughed. "An' now I'm goin' to see if I can get some shut-eye. See you in de mornin', Theo." 

After Remy left, Theoren nearly went crazy. It was deadly silent in the MedLab that late at night. The only sounds to be heard were the machines which were helping to monitor Emil and Questa and keep them alive. The respirators were the noisiest things on the planet, but even they didn't make up for the lack of voices or footsteps or other human sounds. Theo decided to talk to his cousin for a little while. Maybe the kid would wake up if he did. Even for a few minutes. 

"Hey kid. You look like death warmed over. So does Questa. Did Jean tell you what's been goin' on? No? Well alot has gone down, but Remy seems pretty confident dat it'll all work out in de end. Somehow, I t'ink he's right, too. Go figure on dat one, huh? Man, kid, I been worried 'bout you...oh I know, I know, you been tellin' me for ages dat I don' need to worry, dat you can take care of yourself, but I do need to. You couldn' see yourself after your Papa died. You were so lost an' scared...an' he left me in charge of you. Me! I never been a parent in my life an' suddenly I was totally responsible for makin' sure a fourteen year old cousin turned out okay. Talk 'bout bein' scared...I was terrified! You ain' de easiest person for me to get along wit', y'know. But we always seem to manage. God...I jus' wish you'd wake up...be okay...I know I don' say it enough, but I love you, kiddo. I don' wan' lose you..." 

Theoren's voice trailed off and he sat there, eyes closed, willing himself to not cry. Suddenly one of the monitors beeped faster and Theoren's eyes snapped open in alarm. He'd seen enough monitors to be able to figure out what it meant. Emil's heart rate had gone up, as had his "breathing" via the respirator. He was waking up. 

"C'mon, kid..." Theoren whispered enouragingly. In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably be more concerned for Questa at this point, but he wasn't. 

Emil heard his cousin's voice and mentally smiled in spite of the pain it caused him. He successfully squeezed Theoren's hand as hard as he'd dare without causing too much pain and opened his eyes. 

"Man I wish Dr. McCoy didn' have you on dat respirator anymore..." Theoren griped with a laugh. "You can' even talk to me for cryin' out loud. Not while you're still dependent on it...any ideas?" 

Emil closed his eyes briefly and then reopened them. Some of their natural sparkle had suddenly returned. Theoren knew that meant Emil had an idea. Emil lifted his right hand and made a motion of writing. Even better would have been the use of a computer, but they hadn't thought to bring one and Theoren didn't want to bother Hank for one, not yet. 

Theo smiled. "Of course! Hang on." 

Emil rolled his eyes as if to say "What else would I be doin', huh? I ain' 'xactly goin' anywhere..." and waited while Theoren found a pad of paper and a pencil. He positioned the pad under Emil's hand and gave Emil the pencil. Immediately, Emil wrote something. 

"Hi." 

Theoren read it and laughed. "Always de comedian...how do you feel?" 

Emil thought for a second and then wrote furiously. "Chest hurts...not as bad as before though. Everything else seems to be better...how long have I been here?" 

"Six days." Theoren answered. "Goin' into de seventh, actually. I prob'ly shouldn' tell you dis, but you almost died more'n once...so much internal bleedin' an' de collapsed lung didn' help any..." 

"Yeah I know." Emil wrote. "Stomach still hurts some. Gris shouldn't be allowed to have steel-toed boots..." 

"No kiddin'." 

Emil decided to ask another question. "Is Questa okay? Jean told me some stuff...about him shooting Gris and running off and getting hurt..." 

Theoren sighed. "He's a lot worse off dan you are right now...he's very sick on top of bein' hurt. An' to be honest, I don' t'ink he's as strong as you are. Gris an' de assassins were gon' punish him for shootin' Gris...dey were even talkin' 'bout killin' him...but Remy seems to t'ink his punishment has already been handed down, an' I have to agree. Questa don' need any more grief." 

"No. Wait and see, I guess." Emil wrote and then put the pencil down. He was tired again. He looked very young to Theoren at that moment and Theoren ruffled his red hair affectionately. 

"You go back to sleep if you want, kiddo. I'm gon' check on Questa over here but I ain' gon' leave de room." 

Emil had just drifted off to sleep when the machines monitoring Questa started making a lot of strange beeping noises that didn't seem right. Questa himself started coughing uncontrollably in his sleep and the respirator mask was suddenly red with blood. Theoren jumped up and raced over to the intercom, punching the button that went directly to Hank's room with the index finger of his right hand. As soon as he heard a connection made he practically screamed, 

"Dr McCoy! Get down here! Questa's coughin' up blood!" 

To Be Continued... 


	9. Chapter Nine

Punishment   


Chapter Nine 

After what seemed like an eternity to Theoren, who watched helplessly as Questa continued to cough in agony, Hank raced into the MedLab, his white lab coat half on and half off. Less than two minutes had passed, but every second counted. Questa was awake at this point, and from the time Theoren called for Hank until the second Hank arrived, all he could do was cough so hard tears were running down his cheeks. He had literally ripped the respirator mask off his face in an attempt to breathe. 

"Theoren, out." Hank commanded. "Now." 

Theo did as he was told and went to wake up the others. He hadn't gotten far when Jean's voice appeared in his mind. _"I woke them, just stay there. They're all on their way down there, and so am I."_ Theoren nodded and sat down to wait. 

Five minutes later, they were all there. Bella Donna refused to move away from the doors of the MedLab, even though Theoren told her it wasn't pretty. Gris-Gris pretended he didn't care one way or the other. Fifolet and Singer looked torn between supporting Bel and supporting Gris and so did nothing. The thieves assembled in a group and Theoren told them that Emil had woken up and communicated by using paper and a pencil. 

"How is he?" Mercy demanded immediately.   
  
Theoren sighed. "Said his chest an' stomach still hurt, but everythin' else seems to be doin' better, so dat's good. He was worried 'bout Questa." 

"What I wan' know is, why on earth did Questa suddenly start coughin' like dat? I mean man..." Genard commented. 

"Pneumonia, Genard. Dat's why. He's extremely ill, which is somethin' he doesn' need right now, wit' all his injuries." Theoren commented. "I jus' hope Dr. McCoy can get him stable 'gain..." 

Bella Donna turned away from the doors and faced the thieves. "He could die, couldn' he." She said, her voice quiet. 

"Yes, Bel, he could." Jean answered as she walked into the waiting area. She had brought Professor Xavier with her, knowing that the guild might need counselling before the night was over. She was keeping her telepathy open to Questa's thoughts and brain waves, and she had to admit to herself that it didn't look good to her. He was not strong, and the medication Hank was using to try and beat the pneumonia didn't seem to be working. 

Both Jean and Professor Xavier could sense Hank's growing frustration. They glanced at each other, worried. They both knew just how critical Questa was, and if Hank couldn't get him settled down...Jean shook her head. She didn't want to think about it. 

Suddenly Emil's voice echoed in Jean's mind. _"Jean? I'm scared...what's goin' on...I don' wan' bother Dr. McCoy but...dere's so much beepin' an'..."___

_"I know, Emil. I'm on my way in. Questa is very, very sick and Dr. McCoy's trying to stabilize him again." _Jean thought back. 

Jean excused herself and joined Hank and his two patients in the MedLab. "Sorry Hank, but Emil's scared and I thought it best if I come in and sit with him. I won't get in the way." 

Hank looked frazzled. Questa still hadn't stopped coughing and had thrown up as well. There was blood everywhere. "It's alright my friend. I just wish you could take Emil out of here...this is no place for either of you, I'm afraid." 

Emil grabbed the pencil and scribbled something on the pad of paper he'd used before to speak with Theoren. Jean noticed the movement and read what he had written when he was finished.   
  
"He's dying..." 

Tears had welled up in Emil's eyes. He had inherited a powerful type of empathy from Tante Mattie when she passed away six months prior, and he wasn't stupid. He could feel as well as Jean could that their friend was going to die if he didn't stop coughing and throwing up. If he didn't start to breathe. Jean ran a gentle hand through Emil's hair and smiled sadly at him. 

"I'm afraid so, Emil. But I promise you, Hank is doing everything he can, and will continue to do everything he can, to ensure it doesn't come to that, okay?" 

"Okay." Emil wrote. He trusted Jean, and knew she was telling the truth. He reached up with his free hand and caught Jean's hand in it. He held tightly to her, forgetting his own pain and discomfort, ignoring his own injuries. The fear and misery and pain was so strong radiating from Questa that Emil couldn't focus on anything else. Jean and Emil sat there for the next hour, waiting and watching while Hank did everything he could think of to save the young assassin. 

Finally, he looked at Jean. "Jean? I'm out of options. I can't get him to relax, and until he relaxes, he's going to continue coughing and vomiting." 

"I know, Hank." Jean whispered. "The only thing I can do would be to enter his mind and shut it off, so he'd sleep, but I can't guarantee that will work. Theoren said Questa was asleep when he first started coughing." 

"That is true." Hank sighed. "And as that is the case, there is nothing more I can do for him." 

Emil suddenly pulled on Jean's arm. He had been writing something while listening to them and he showed Jean the paper. It read, quite simply, 

"Get Gris-Gris. Now." 

Jean and Hank both looked skeptical. "Oh Emil...I don't know if that's such a good idea..." Jean said. Emil silenced her with one sharp look. Jean knew that look only too well and gave in. Emil was the youngest of the thieves, as well as an only child. He had been considerably spoiled all his life and was accustomed to getting what he wanted. In this case, he wanted Gris-Gris. So Jean walked out of the MedLab, with Hank in tow. 

"Guys?" 

Everyone looked up. Jean let Hank explain Questa's condition to them and watched in sympathetic silence as most of them had to force back tears. 

"I have done everything I can do and then some for Questa at this time." Hank said. "His body cannot relax, and because of that, he is continually coughing and vomiting, which in turn is making his other injuries worse. Essentially, he is dying and I can't stop it." 

"However, Emil is awake and he knows all this. He seems to think one of you has the ability to help Questa." Jean continued, looking directly into Gris-Gris' dark brown eyes. 

Gris broke eye contact and looked at the floor. Jean sensed his hesitation but it wasn't from his hatred of Emil or his anger at Questa. He was hesitating from uncertainty. With everyone looking at him, he buckled and went to the door of the MedLab. "Don' follow me." He warned. 

First, Gris looked at Questa, who was lying in bed coughing and throwing up and crying almost all at once. Gris' hard old heart nearly broke at the sight. He might have been angry with the young man, but in his own way, Gris loved Questa and hated to see him like that. He blinked hard and turned to Emil. 

"Help him." Emil wrote on the pad. 

"How?!" Gris demanded, his voice breaking. Emil was astonished. For the first time since he'd first met the large man, Gris was showing emotion other than anger and hatred. He actually cared. It was unheard of. 

"She left you all her books...everything she knew was in them...and even if they don't know it, I know you've been studying them." 

Gris shook his head. "Lapin...you're crazy! I can'...!" 

Emil glared. "Oh grow up, would you?" He wrote. "She left me her powers for a reason, because she knew I could do it. She knew I could handle it. For the same reason, she left you her books and spells. You are the only one of us capable of being as powerful a healer as she was. You've been studying it for months and you already knew a lot of it anyway. Dr. McCoy can't help him. Now it's your turn. Try." 

Gris started to shake his head, but stopped when he read the next thing Emil wrote to him. "Tante Mattie always said cajun traiteurs were better than any doctor in any hospital. Prove it. Not just to the rest of us, but to yourself. Believe that you can do it. She had faith in you. Show her she wasn't wrong." 

"I don' have anythin' I'd need..." Gris protested mildly. He already knew he was going to do it, but he didn't quite know how. 

"Improvize." Emil wrote. 

Gris rolled his eyes. "You got an answer for everythin'?" 

"Yes." 

"Okay, okay. B'cause you talked me into it an' b'cause I love dat kid even if I am pissed off at him." Gris conceded. "I jus' hope your idea didn' come to you too late..." 

To Be Continued... 


	10. Chapter Ten

Punishment   


Chapter Ten 

Anyone entering the MedLab within the next two hours would not have been able to understand a single word that was being said, unless that person was fluent in Cajun or voodoo. Gris-Gris used his imagination and his memory and had gotten started in his very first attempt at being a traiteur fairly quickly. Emil watched from the sidelines with a sinking feeling the whole time. Questa wasn't getting any better. 

But Gris threw himself into healing the way he threw himself into anything he tried, and he refused to give up until absolutely necessary. He tried every combination of words and spells and prayers he could remember or make up. He finally collapsed, exhausted and defeated. He couldn't go on without rest. 

Questa, still coughing and occasionally throwing up, looked at the older man, his blue eyes dull and weak. "I'm sorry..." he choked out. 

"I know. So am I." 

Gris went over to speak with Emil for a moment. "I can' do it. I can' save him." He hated the sound of the words; he wasn't the type to give up on anything he did and to admit he couldn't do it was a hard blow to his ego. 

"You've tried everything?" Emil wrote on the paper. Gris nodded. 

Emil closed his eyes and sent out a message to Jean. _"He didn' succeed...he's not powerful 'nough...not as trained as Tante Mattie was..."___

In the waiting area, Jean heard the words in her mind and sighed. "Emil just told me that his plan for Gris to help Questa didn't work." 

"So...Questa's not any better?" Fifolet asked quietly. 

Jean shook her head. "No. I guess it's up to him now. If he's strong enough to pull through this on his own, he will. If not..." 

One by one the group filed into the MedLab. Hank took a look at Questa's vital signs. It seemed like the young assassin wasn't coughing or vomiting as much, but he was still very weak and had a very difficult time trying to get air into his lungs. Hank picked up the respirator. 

"It can't hurt to try this again..." 

Questa nodded and allowed Hank to adjust the respirator mask over his face again. Then Hank fixed the levels of medications in the respirator and turned it on. In a matter of minutes, Questa was relaxed enough to stop throwing up, but he wasn't anywhere near out of the woods yet. Once he was settled, Hank moved to check on his other patient. 

"Well, Emil, your idea might have helped a little bit after all. I don't know what Gris-Gris did, but I couldn't get him that relaxed and calmed down before." Hank commented as he checked Emil's vital signs. "How are you feeling?" 

"Chest and stomach hurt..." Emil wrote. "Not fair." 

"What's not fair?" Jean asked from her spot on the other side of Emil's bed. 

"I'd give him my respirator if it would help him." 

"But you need it..." Jean protested. 

A small shrug. "Questa wouldn't be in here if it wasn't for me. I'm the one who made Gris angry...again...and if I hadn't, he wouldn't have beaten me up and Questa wouldn't have gotten mad at him. Questa doesn't deserve to be as sick and hurt as he is. He's dying for cripe's sake and he shouldn't be!" 

"Emil..." Jean and Theoren said in unison. This written outburst frightened them. 

"Leave me alone." Emil wrote and then put the pencil down and closed his eyes. 

Hank took charge of the situation again. "Okay...everybody out. This has been a trying few hours for my two patients, and they both need their rest...if Questa can stop coughing long enough to get some. I'm going to stay to make sure nothing goes wrong, but I suggest the rest of you get some sleep as well. I will notify you if anything happens." 

Forty-five minutes after the rest of the guild filed out of the room, Emil opened his eyes again. He hadn't gone to sleep, mainly because Questa was still coughing frequently in spite of the respirator. Emil looked over to where Questa was lying in bed. He was picking up Questa's emotions clear as a bell and it pained him to no end. He could feel how sick Questa was, how weak he was getting, and he couldn't even talk to him. A quick look around showed Emil that Hank was studying some test results in his office with the door open so he could keep an eye on them. 

Sensing his friend looking at him, Questa turned his head and looked at Emil. He managed a half-hearted smile. "It hurts worse'n anythin'..." he said loud enough so Emil could hear him over the two respirators. "I'm gon' die, ain' I...?" 

Emil knew he couldn't be of much help, but he suddenly had an urge to sit by Questa's bed and try. And even though he knew he shouldn't, he pulled off his own respirator mask and tried to breathe. His lungs were weak but after an initial scream of pain which sent Hank flying out from his office in a flurry of blue fur, he discovered he could actually breathe somewhat better than Questa could, which was something. 

"Emil what are you doing!" Hank demanded. "You shouldn't have taken that mask off! Your lungs aren't ready!" 

"I'm breathin', ain' I?" Emil retorted in a pained voice as he got out of bed and into the chair Hank used that had wheels. He wheeled himself over to Questa's bed and smiled. Hank shook his head and went to the phone to call Jean, the Professor and the rest of the guild. 

Questa was astonished by Emil's actions. "Never t'ink 'fore you act, do ya?" 

"Nope. Wouldn' be me if I did." Emil replied. "Now I ain' gon' give de doc a coronary by sittin' up here too long...mainly b'cause I can' anyway...t'ink he might've been right 'bout my lungs not bein' ready, but it's too late now...merde it hurts...lissen t'me t'ough, kay? You gotta get better...you been punished 'nough dey ain' gon' do nothin' to ya...you jus' gotta get better now." 

"I can' Emil...I can' breathe an' when I try...well...you've seen an' heard..." Questa choked out. He pulled the respirator off again. "Ain' no point in dis if I ain' gettin' better." 

"Questa..." Emil's voice trailed off. He watched, helplessly, as Questa's body shuddered and spasmed in pain from a rough coughing fit. They both heard the doors of the MedLab open and close again behind the guild members, Jean and the professor, who joined them silently but kept their distance. 

Hank moved over keep an eye on Questa's vital signs. The young assassin was dying, there was no doubt in anyone's mind, especially Emil, Jean and Xavier, who could all feel it. He was glad to note that Emil wasn't moving or talking too much. He didn't need to over-exert himself. Hank still had to suggest that Emil get back into bed though. 

"Perhaps you should get back into bed, Emil. It's not doing you any good to be out." 

Emil, who had taken Questa's hand in his, shook his head. "Non. You're right, it ain' doin' me any good, but..." he shook his head again. "I ain' leavin' him until..." 

Hank sighed and nodded his approval. Jean moved over and stood behind Emil, her hand resting on his thin shoulder. He was weaker than he was letting on, and she knew it. Silently, the four other assassins moved position as well, lining up by the other side of Questa's bed. 

Questa's coughing got much worse in the next hour. He could not get more than a little bit of air into his lungs at a time, and he coughed continually. He was in so much pain tears rolled down his cheeks and he wrapped his arms around himself. Within another hour, he was so weak he could barely keep his eyes open. He was literally coughing himself to death and it didn't seem like he could stop, but suddenly, he did. He looked at his family, thieves and assassins and X-Men alike, and realized he couldn't even say goodbye to them. His lungs had completely closed. He wasn't breathing. It was only a matter of very little time and he had to hurry. He pointed over to the pad of paper and pencil on Emil's bed, urgency showing plainly on his pale face. 

Claude grabbed the paper and pencil and handed it to Questa quickly. They were all aware of how little time they had. He wanted to tell them something. 

Questa hastily scribbled a note to them on the paper. "I'm sorry for putting you through so much in my life...thank you all for everything...you mean the world to me...I love you..." 

Within seconds of finishing writing the note, Questa gave into the force that was calling him and closed his eyes. The monitor that was keeping tabs on his vital signs beeped one long steady beep moments later and when Hank turned it off, the room was left in complete silence. 

Emil got up and climbed back into his bed. He was physically and emotionally exhausted. Tears were flowing in salty rivers down his cheeks. Feeling his friend die had been one of the most painful experiences he'd ever been through. The rest of the thieves surrounded his bed, their faces solemn, but said nothing. They knew Emil well enough to know he'd talk when he was ready to talk. 

Without saying a word, Gris-Gris left the MedLab. He needed to get some air, and he didn't want to stick around while the rest of the guild reacted to Questa's death. He barely kept his emotions in check as he walked out of the mansion, and was unaware that he was being followed. Once outside, he walked around to the side of the mansion where no one could see him without coming around to look and sat down on the cool, damp grass and buried his face in his hands, his large body wracking with every sob. 

Jean stayed out of view for a moment and let Gris mourn for his friend. _"The assassins try so hard to be mean and vindictive and hateful...swearing assassins aren't supposed to care about anyone or anything...and most of the time they do a good job pretending, but deep down I always knew it was just an act. Questa taught me that."___

To Be Continued... 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Punishment   


Chapter Eleven 

Gris suddenly sensed Jean's presence and looked over at her. She smiled sadly at him and he decided he might as well invite her to join him. He sent a brief throught her way, knowing she would pick up on it. _"Y'may as well sit down, Jean."_

Jean nodded and joined him on the grass in silence. They leaned against the mansion and Jean handed Gris a kleenex. Neither one of them said a word for a good five minutes, but then Gris broke the silence. 

"He knew he was gon' die, didn' he..." 

"I believe so, yes." Jean answered. "Emil knew. He felt it. That's why he didn't want to leave Questa's side. As much as it hurt him, he wanted to be there, just in case it happened before the rest of us got back down there. He wanted to make sure Questa wasn't alone." 

Gris shook his head, his face contorted with pain and grief. "I'm such a..." He stood up suddenly and turned, slamming his fist into the wall of the mansion as hard as he could. Jean could hear the knuckles break, but said nothing. 

"It's all relative, y'know dat, Jeannie?" Gris said, sitting back down. He ignored the pain in his hand. 

"How do you mean?" Jean asked, even though she knew he'd tell her even if she didn't ask. 

"I punished Lapin for bein' his normal obnoxious brat self by beatin' him worse'n I ever did b'fore. When he almost died, Questa punished me by shootin' me an' breakin' our creed of honor. Den, b'cause he was sorry for doin' dat an' figured we'd punish him anyway, Questa ran away an' ended up bein' punished by havin' de crap beat out of him by some strangers in a rainstorm. You an' Logan got him back, but he got real sick. Dr. McCoy couldn' make him better, so Emil asked me to try even t'ough he knew how angry I was. I tried an' I failed b'cause I'm not good enough yet...Tante Mattie wouldn' have failed. She woulda kept him alive, she woulda healed him. I couldn' do it, an' he died." 

"Oh Gris..." Jean whispered, putting a hand on his arm. "Questa didn't die because he or anyone else wanted to punish you for being unable to help him. Studying Mattie's books is a wonderful thing you're doing, she was right to leave them to you. You're just new at it and don't have the experience she had. It's not your fault." 

"I wish he'd tried harder to kill me..." Gris said quietly. "He didn' d'serve to die...an' for all I've done in my life...I do." 

"Jovan don't you talk like that!" Jean reprimanded. "You don't mean it, I can tell. You are who you are but that doesn't mean you deserve to die. Sure, all of you, if you got arrested and put on trial, would probably get the death sentence for your actions over the decades, but that's not the point. This is a tough blow to the guild...almost as tough as when Mattie died last summer...but you got through that, and you'll get through this." 

Gris sighed, something he didn't do often. "I feel like I let him down..." 

"You didn't. I think he knew you did everything you could do. It was just his time to go. He was as strong as he could be all his life, through everything that happened to him, you know that better than I do. But it took a toll on him and he couldn't fight this time. He didn't have the strength in him this time. And you know what?" 

"What?" 

"He wasn't alone in any aspect. All of us...the people who love him...were here with him, by his side, when he died. But that's not all. I could feel the spirits here too. I'll have to ask Emil if he felt them as well. Tante Mattie was here, and Celeste, Marius and Julien...they came and took his spirit with them. So he wasn't alone. And I promise you that he will watch over all of you the way they do." Jean said softly. 

"I b'lieve dat." Gris commented. 

"Why don't we go back inside and get Hank to look at those knuckles? Your hand has swollen to twice its normal size and it really should be treated." Jean said by way of changing the subject, seeing that Gris was on the verge of bawling again. 

Gris nodded and followed Jean back into the mansion. When they arrived in the MedLab, it was noticably more subdued than it had been before. Hank had placed a sheet over Questa's still body. The other assassins and some of the thieves were nowhere to be found. Theoren and Mercy were sitting, one on either side of Emil's bed, speaking quietly to him. Emil had stopped crying, but looked grief-stricken and devastated. Hank was in his office writing in Questa's file. He looked up when Jean knocked on his door. 

"If you're wondering where everyone else went, the thieves are in the kitchen I believe, and the assassins have gone to Charles' office to speak with him. They're pretty upset." Hank said. 

"Thank you, Hank, but actually, Gris needs to have his hand looked at." Jean said. 

"Oh?" Hank got up and cleaned his glasses. He put them on again and went over to Gris, who sat on the bed he'd been in before. "What happened?" 

"Hit de wall." Gris replied shortly. "Hard." 

Hank chuckled. "Well yes, I can see that. Venting anguish and frustration on walls is a bit painful for the hand though. Perhaps next time you could use a punching bag or get someone to call up a foe for you to beat on in the Danger Room. If you are still here, that is." 

Gris waited in patient silence as Hank bandaged up his broken hand and warned him not to do that again. When Hank was done, Gris got off the bed and looked at the three thieves still present in the MedLab. 

"Can I talk to Lapin for a moment alone?" He asked. 

Theoren and Mercy looked at each other and then at Hank and Jean, who both nodded. "Sure." Theoren agreed. He and Mercy joined Hank and Jean at the door of the MedLab and the four of them left to give Gris and Emil some privacy. 

"Some t'ings can' be helped." Gris said thoughtfully, giving the young thief a strained smile. "But some t'ings can. I can' help bein' de way I am anymore'n you can, but if I hadn' reacted so badly, none of dis woulda happened..." 

"I know." Emil replied, wincing slightly in pain. His lungs were still weak, but they were working and he felt they were getting stronger as he used them. He had requested that Hank not put him back on the respirator unless they started giving him a lot of trouble. "Sometimes I think trying to make you mad is like a game or somethin'. But I can try harder not to, instead of tryin' to see how far I can push you." 

"An' if you do make me mad, I can try to find somethin' else to take it out on...instead of takin' it out on your hide." Gris said. "Dr. McCoy suggested a punchin' bag..." 

"Hey maybe I can steal you one!" Emil's eyes lit up. "Tell you what, as soon as Dr. McCoy gives me de all-clear to go home...an' who knows when dat will be...I'll see what I can do 'bout gettin' you a punchin' bag." 

"If you insist." Gris said. "An' by de way...t'ank you." 

"For what?" 

"For puttin' yourself in more physical pain to sit wit' him..." Gris looked away. 

"Aw...it's okay. He was my friend. I knew I couldn' help, but at least I wanted someone to be holdin' his hand, y'know? I didn' know how quick you guys'd all get back down here..." 

"Jean said he wasn' alone..." 

"No, he wasn'." Emil confirmed. "It's nice dat people who cared 'bout him were here in person an' in spirit." 

"I'm t'ankful for dat. I'd hate to t'ink he died an' no one was dere to help him or take care of him." Gris shuddered at the very idea. It was unthinkable, as well as impossible. He knew at the very least Tante Mattie an' Questa's mother would be there for him. It was nice that Marius and Julien were as well. He looked at Emil. "You should get some sleep, kid, if you ever wan' get outta dis MedLab..." 

"Yeah, dat's prob'ly true." Emil yawned and found that yawning hurt more than nearly anything he'd done since taking off the respirator mask. "Oooh...dat was a bad t'ing. Yawns are evil!" 

"So don' yawn." Gris joked, standing up and heading for the door. 

Emil rolled his eyes. "Ha. Ha. Very funny, Mr. Sarcasm." He picked up on how down Gris seemed and sighed. "Hey Gris?" 

"What?" 

"Remember what we had to do when Tante Mattie died? We had to live one day at a time an' lean on each other when we needed to or we'd drive ourselves crazy wit' grief an' misery." Emil said. 

"Yeah, so?" 

"Same rule applies to dis." 

"Oui, I know. Good night, Lapin." Gris nodded and walked out the door into the waiting room. He walked through the waiting area and down the hallway to the elevator. Once there, he went up to the main floor of the mansion and walked down a few hallways until he got to Professor Xavier's office, where he knew Bella Donna, Fifolet and Singer were. He paused outside the door and took a deep breath before raising his left hand awkwardly and knocking on the door. 

To Be Continued... 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Punishment   


Chapter Twelve 

_"Come in, Jovan." _Professor Xavier's voice sounded in Gris' head and he jumped, not expecting it. He hesitantly opened the door and walked in. 

"Sorry if I'm interruptin'..." Gris said quietly. He looked around the room and sighed. Bella Donna and Singer were both sitting in chairs across the desk from Xavier. Bel's eyes were red from crying, and Gris assumed Singer's were as well even though he couldn't see them beneath her dark glasses. Fifolet was standing at the window, staring out into the early morning light as if he was expecting to see something incredibly amazing out there. 

"You're not interrupting." Xavier assured him. "How are you holding up?" 

Gris shrugged, but didn't answer with words. He couldn't express how he was feeling at that moment. He was feeling so many different emotions it was hard to define any of them. Xavier nodded, signifying to Gris that he understood. 

Silently, Gris walked over and stood behind Bella Donna. He put a hand on her shoulder and was surprised when she brushed it off rather violently. "Don't touch me." She warned, her voice filled with pain and anger. Gris backed off, unsure of how to react to this sudden reaction from the young woman. 

"Bella Donna..." He began, but Bel cut him off. Her eyes flashed angrily, her voice, though quiet, shook with emotion. 

"Save it, Gris-Gris. You knew better'n most what he'd been t'rough in his life...helped him whenever you could...helped my father take care of him all his life...an' in spite of dat, in spite of knowin' dat he an' Emil had b'come friends since de unification, you continued to hurt Emil when he angered you. You haven' shown any consideration for any of de t'ieves or for any of us either since de unification. Sometimes I wonder if you even know how to care. Questa would still be alive right now if you did." 

Bel got up and stalked to the door. Her hand was on the doorknob when Gris finally reacted to her words. "Don' you t'ink I know dat?!" He yelled, his deep voice echoing in the office. He whirled on her and grabbed her arm. She jerked away, still fully intent on not sticking around to hear what he had to say. It was Xavier who stopped her. 

"Perhaps, Bella Donna, it would be a good idea for you to listen to what he has to say. I have a feeling the things he is about to tell you are things not many people know." 

Bel let out a frustrated sigh and stood facing Gris with her arms crossed over her chest and a glare in her violet eyes. "Fine." 

"For God's sake, girl, don' punish me for dis." Gris said with a shake of his head. He was having a hard time collecting his thoughts, but he knew what had to be said, and Xavier was right. Those present didn't know. Only Jean did. Jean and Marius, who was dead and couldn't help. He took a deep breath and started from the beginning. 

"You mentioned dat I know what Questa went t'rough in his life. Dat's true, I do. Mainly b'cause I went t'rough it myself, at de hands of my own father an' uncles, only I had no one to help me t'rough it. Dat's why I helped him so much, b'cause I didn' want him or anyone else havin' to go t'rough it like I did. An' I swear to you, if your father had let me, I would've killed Chandler an' Percy b'fore dey got a chance to even lay one hand on dat kid. You wonder if I know how to care, how to love? De answer is yes. I loved your father and Julien. I loved Tante Mattie. I love you. I love Fifolet an' Singer. An' I loved Questa...." 

"You say all dat now...but you never show it..." Bel said, her tone softening in spite of herself. 

"I have my reasons for dat, chere." Gris admitted. "A long time ago, I met dis wonderful woman named Lorraine. She was de most amazin' woman I'd ever known an' for de first time in my life, I allowed myself to fall in love. We ended up gettin' married...she knew some t'ings 'bout de Guild, but told me as long as I didn' take it home, so to speak, she wouldn' ask questions or get in de way. I was happy...I 'member your father teasin' me all de time...but den, 'bout a year b'fore Questa was born, Lorraine found somethin' out she was better off not knowin' an' she confronted me 'bout it. Julien heard us arguin' an' told your father, who later told me she was a threat dat had to be eliminated. He pretty much said if I didn' get rid of her, he would." 

Bel's eyes widened. "So you killed her..." 

"Oui. I poisoned her, she jus' fell asleep an' died. It didn' hurt her. I couldn' hurt her. She never knew what happened. But I found out later from Tante Mattie dat Lorraine had been pregnant at de time. So I killed my wife an' my unborn son in one shot, for de sake of Guild honor an' tradition." Gris laughed bitterly. "I've never forgiven myself for dat. You wonder why I never show it if I care 'bout someone? Dat's why. I hate myself an' dat hatred an' anger has filled up my life. Questa was my one shot at tryin' to do t'ings right...Celeste asked me to be his godfather...an' what do you know, I screwed dat up too. I went in dat MedLab when Lapin asked for me an' I did everythin' I could t'ink of an' even a few t'ings I didn' know I knew to try an' save Questa's life, but I couldn' do it. I let him down...I let de whole damned Guild down. An' if you t'ink I don' care, t'ink 'gain." 

Bella Donna was silent for nearly five minutes, digesting everything the man had just said. It shocked her that he had undergone much of the same treatement as Questa had. _"Did dey all have to go t'rough dat horror...did Julien?" _She thought to herself, wishing she could ask her brother. Since she couldn't, and she already knew Questa and Gris had been put through it, she looked to the only other man left in the Assassins Guild. 

Fifolet squirmed under Bel's scrutiny. He knew what was coming next and he didn't want to have to answer her questions. Gris sympathized with his friend, but couldn't stop Bel from asking. 

"Fifolet?" Bel said quietly. "Did you...um...?" 

The long-haired man sighed deeply. "Oui...it was a kind of tradition of sorts...meant to make us all cold-hearted killers devoid of any emotion. Needless to say it didn' really do much 'cept hurt us." 

"Yeah..." Bel replied. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you all had to endure dat." She looked back at Gris. "An' I'm sorry for blamin' you for all of dis..." 

Gris gave a half-hearted smile. "Technically, it is my fault, Bella Donna. Mine an' Lapin's. He an' I have come to an agreement, however, so dat dis kind of t'ing never happens 'gain." 

There was a sudden knock on the door before Gris got to explain what the agreement was. Xavier had been silent for the entire conversation between the assassins, because he knew they had to deal with some of these issues on their own. However, he knew who was outside the door and thought it would be nice if Gris could share the agreement with them as well, so he said, 

"Come in." 

The door opened and in walked Remy with Theoren, Mercy, Claude, Genard and Zoe.   
  
"Jean told us we could find you here..." Remy began. "Do you mind...?" 

"I don't, and I don't believe they do either." Xavier smiled. "In fact, Jovan was just about to tell them about this agreement he and Emil have worked out to ensure nothing like what happened this week ever happens again." 

"Oh really...?" Theoren muttered, his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Come on, Gris, do tell." 

Anger flashed in Gris' dark eyes, but rather than lash out at Theoren, he took a deep breath, held it for a couple of seconds and let it out as slowly as possible. He hadn't told Emil this but he was planning on trying to keep his temper in check with all the thieves, not just Emil. "Actually, he an' I talked 'bout it earlier. He's goin' to try harder to not make me angry, an' I'm gon' try to not be so quick to get angry." 

"An' if you do get angry?" Claude asked. 

"Dr. McCoy suggested a punchin' bag, like de ones dey have in gyms. Lapin said he'd see 'bout stealin' me one when we go back to Nawlins, but if dat don' pan out, I'll buy one." Gris said. "De point is, none of what happened dis week should have happened, an' if he an' I have any say in de matter, it won' happen 'gain." 

Mercy caught the sincerity in Gris' voice. "You're really gon' work on it." She stated. 

Gris nodded. "Questa's death showed me dat t'ings can' keep goin' dis way. We can' afford to lose anybody else, an' if we're meant to be unified, den you won' get any more complaints outta me." 

Slowly the Guild members filed out of Xavier's office. The thieves were on their way back down to visit with Emil, and the assassins voiced an expression to go for an early morning walk and get out of the house. But Xavier wasn't finished with one of them just yet. 

_"Bella Donna, please remain behind. I would like to speak with you in private." _He thought to her. She gave him a curious look but nodded and stood by the window while waiting for the rest to leave. 

"What's on your mind, Professor?" She asked, not turning from the window, once they were gone. 

"It came as a shock to you, what you learned from Gris-Gris and Fifolet this morning." Xavier said matter-of-factly. 

"Yes." Bel admitted. "Oh, I'm not as naive as to t'ink Questa was de only one...I knew he couldn' have been. But de idea dat all of dem went t'rough it an' never said anythin'...an' worse, de idea dat my own father, who I loved even t'ough he drove me crazy sometimes, put my brother t'rough it...I never t'ought he would do dat kind of t'ing to his own children..." 

"Was he ever violent towards you?" 

"No! De most he ever did to me was yell. He never raised a hand to me in my life an' wouldn' let anyone else, either." Bel said. "Professor...do you even know what was done to dem...?" 

"Yes. I asked Jean to tell me about Questa just before she and Logan went to find him. She gave a short account, but explained about the levels of abuse." 

Bella Donna shook her blond head. "I can'..." 

"You can't what?" Xavier prompted. 

"I can' imagine Gris-Gris allowin' anyone to do dat to him. All my life he's been dis big, tough, hard-as-nails killer. No one has been able to hurt him in all de time I've known him. Remy could, if de element of surprise was good enough, but dat's 'bout it. I jus' can' see him takin' dat kind of treatment from anyone..." 

"It is amazing what abused children will put up with when they are young and unable to defend themselves." Xavier commented thoughtfully. "I have a feeling once Jovan grew up, his father and uncles found themselevs on the receiving end of a whole world of pain." 

"He prob'ly killed dem...said he would've killed de people who hurt Questa if Papa had let him." Bel nodded. 

"I don't doubt it." 

They were suddenly interrupted by a beeping noise. Xavier pushed a button on the intercom on his desk. "Yes?" 

"Charles, could you ask Bella Donna to get the other assassins and meet everyone in the waiting area outside the MedLab?" Hank's voice came over the intercom. He sounded frazzled. 

"Of course, Henry, but what is wrong?" Xavier nodded and Bel was already on her way out the door to get the others. "Is something the matter with Emil?" 

Hank sighed. "I knew he shouldn't have gotten up and moved around so much so soon..." 

"We'll be there shortly." Xavier replied. 

Three hours after the guild reassembled outside the MedLab with Professor Xavier and Jean, Hank came out to speak with them about Emil's condition. 

"I t'ought he was gettin' better!" Mercy exclaimed. 

"He was." Hank said. "And he would still be getting better if he had remained on the respirator and had not gotten out of bed and moved around so much. He over-exerted himself and now he's set back even more." 

"Hank...please just tell us..." Jean said, her worry coming through in her voice. 

"I had to perform emergency surgery on Emil. When he moved around earlier, his broken ribs also moved. As they were settling back once he laid back down, they caused friction against his already weakened lungs and the right one collapsed again. On top of that, his bruised liver was stressed and began bleeding. He is in critical condition and I will be monitoring him closely for the next forty-eight hours at least." Hank told them. "I pray whatever angels watch over you are keeping a close eye on him." 

To Be Continued... 


	13. Epilogue

Punishment   


Epilogue 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Emil became aware of a voice saying his name. He focused on the voice, even thought he had a vague feeling that he was imagining it, and the more he focused on it the more aware of it he became. Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder and his eyes snapped open. He looked around, his curiosity getting the better of him. Everything was fuzzy. 

_"Dis don' seem right..." _He said, but even his voice seemed fuzzy. _"Am I dreamin' dis?"___

_"Matter of fact...yup."_ The same voice who'd been trying to get his attention was right behind Emil and he jumped. He turned around and blinked in shock. 

_"Questa...?"___

_"Boy you're swift tonight._" Questa laughed. 

Emil was confused. He didn't understand this at all, and it baffled him. _"I'm confused, mon ami...you're dead...ain' you?"___

_"Yeah. Nothin' hurts anymore. It's kinda cool, actually." _Questa explained. _"But Tante Mattie tol' me I had to talk to you. Dat's why I'm here right now." _He tapped Emil's head. _"In your dreams. Jus' dis once."___

_"But do de others know...?"___

_"Non. To dem you're on de verge of dyin', in critical condition in dat blasted MedLab. What do you remember?"___

_"Everythin' started hurtin' a lot more 'gain...like it did b'fore...I could hardly bear it it hurt so bad...an' den I couldn' breathe anymore an' de monitors went wonky an' Dr. McCoy freaked out an' dat's it. I passed out I guess..." _Emil said. _"How long 'go was dat?"___

Questa made the attempt to do the math and ended up laughing again. _"He operated on you for three hours b'fore he was done...dat was twelve hours 'go...so if my math is right you got worse 'gain fifteen hours 'go. An' I been tryin' to get you to get into dis dream for awhile. You're stubborn."___

_"Why're you here?"___

_"I'm here b'cause I have to tell you a couple of t'ings, an' apparently I'm de only one who can do it." _Questa explained with a shrug.__

_"Okay...so...?" _Emil asked. 

_"Well, personally, I'm real proud of you an' Gris for agreein' to work t'ings out an' stuff. An' all dat stuff Tante Mattie used to tell us 'bout de spirits of de dead keepin' an eye on us...it's true. I mean heck, I'm proof of dat right now I guess, but seriously, I've been watchin' an' dey never, ever leave. I've seen so many people from bot' Guilds, hoverin' an' keepin' an eye on all'a you guys since I died...I couldn' believe it. But it's true." _Questa smiled. 

Emil sighed. _"An' now you're one of 'em...an' I s'pose I will be too b'fore de day's out...my own stupid fault..."___

Questa frowned and cuffed Emil across the arm. _"You injured yourself even more so you could sit wit' me. You did it b'cause you weren' sure de others would be dere in time an' you didn' want me to die alone. Dat is prob'ly de nicest t'ing anyone has ever done for me an' I don' wan' you to call yourself stupid for doin' it. 'Sides, you ain' gon' die."___

_"How do you know?" _Emil asked. 

_"Remember when I asked you if I was gon' die? I already knew de answer, I jus' wanted verification, I guess. But I knew, b'cause Momma, Tante Mattie, Marius an' Julien came an' told me. I had enough time to write dat note by dat point, but dat was it. Dere ain' no one from your fam'ly here to take you wit' dem, an' everyone 'round here's been sayin' it ain' your time. You still have a job to do in life."___

_"So I gotta get better an' wake up an' stuff..."___

_"Exactly. An' when you wake up for long periods of time, b'cause we both know you won' for awhile at first, you gotta make sure you do everythin' Dr. McCoy says an' be good so you'll get better. Only maybe get someone to get you a laptop instead of dat paper an' pencil."___

Emil laughed. _"Yeah...hey, uh...is dere anythin' you want me to tell de others...I mean we're all really upset an' all...an'..."___

Questa grew sober and sighed. _"I know. Been watchin'. An' I guess all dey really need to know is dat dey ain' alone. None of you are ever alone. Dere's so many people who never leave you. Take comfort in dat. Live one day at a time. I gotta go now..."___

_"Okay..." _Tears welled up in Emil's eyes. _"Uhm...I guess...uh..."___

_"Goodbye, Emil. Thank you for bein' my friend."___

With that, the dream ended and Emil found himself waking up in the MedLab with Hank standing over him, a concerned look on the furry blue face. The tears that had begun to fall at the end of the dream were making a steady stream down either side of Emil's pale face and clogging his ears. 

"Welcome back, Emil." Hank said. "You gave us quite a scare there. I'm glad you're awake, that shows me you're going to get better, and hopefully this time you'll do as I say. But why on earth are you crying?" 

Emil picked up the pencil and wrote a note to Hank. "Questa came to talk to me in a dream I just had. Told me I still have a job to do here, so I have to get better. Told me other things too..." He shoved the pad over to Hank and put the pencil down again. 

Hank read the note and sighed. "No wonder you're crying...well you try to get some rest. We can all discuss everything later. There's plenty of time for that." 

Emil nodded as best he could and closed his eyes. Hank, satisfied his young patient was going to be okay, went into his office and sat down behind his desk. He pushed a button on his intercom, waited for a connection and then said, 

"Remy? It's Hank." 

Remy was upstairs in the kitchen with the remaining Guild members. They all jumped up in alarm when they heard Hank's voice. "Is everythin' okay, Hank?" Remy demanded. 

"Yes, fine. I didn't mean to startle you. Emil woke up a few minutes ago. He's going to be just fine. There's no need for any of you to worry about him." 

"How do you know?" Genard asked. 

"He told me himself. So please, all of you try to get some rest. He's going to need you all to be here to help him recover." Hank said. He didn't want to upset them by mentioning Questa, and he figured if it made Emil cry, it would make them cry as well. Emil could tell them all about the dream at a later time. 

"Okay Hank." Remy said. "Thanks for lettin' us know." 

Hank ended the communiation and leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtfully out at the main room of the MedLab, where Emil was sleeping peacefully. The road ahead of them was a long one, with so much pain and grief flowing through the members of the Guild, but Hank knew they were strong enough to get through it. They were proving their strength over and over as the time went by and somehow, Hank knew if they started to lose their way, the spirits protecting them would step in and put them back on the right track, just as Questa had done for Emil. 

The End 

*****   
A/N: Many thanks to Christy S. for reviewing as I went along with this. I appreciate your input and feedback. 

The story is now complete and there will not be a sequel. I had a very hard time killing off one of my favorite characters, and I can't imagine writing a sequel unless he came back from the dead in it. That, of course, would defeat the purpose of this. 

As with many of my other stories, I took a lot of liberties. Marvel did not develop most of the Guild members at all. I created backgrounds and histories for them, partly based on the little hints given in the comics and partly based on the very AU role playing games I used to play. "Jovan Neville" is not Gris-Gris' real name, I made it up. Just like I made up the abusive past for the males of the Assassins Guild. None of it is real, or based on the comics, which is why I call it an AU piece. 

While I have archived many of my stories here, there are even more at my website. The link can be found on my profile. 

Until next time, keep writing and reading! 

Cajun Quinn 

  
  



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